Hedonism
by Dr. Abraxas
Summary: A series of oneshots/drabbles/ect written in reply to the prompts @IY-Hedonism. sick and twisted alert!
1. Index

**Disclaimer: The characters of InuYasha are not mine, they are property of Rumiko Takahashi, Shogakukan, Yomiuri TV, Sunrise, and Viz. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. **

**A/N: The Inuyasha Hedonism LJ community ended with the prompt #100, perfect hedonist, and with the passing of the comm this collection is officially completed!**

**1. Between Us **  
Just Kagura getting tormented by Naraku. (bondage)

**2. To Gaze Into The Forbidden **  
Miroku develops a very unhealthy fetish related to Sango. (masturbation)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, Moderator's Choice, Masturbation Theme_

**3. Tainted **  
Onigumo will go to great lengths to corrupt Kikyou. Even confined by his injuries he schemes to compromise her virginity - alas the timing was off... (premature ejaculation)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Premature Ejaculation Theme_

**4. Like A Wolf **  
A perfect orgasm from Koga's POV. (perfect orgasm)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 3rd Place, Perfect Orgasm Theme_

**5. Broken Into Fragments **  
While Kohaku and Rin share a tryst, after he saves her from a pack of demons, Naraku decides to toy with the hero for his own, sick entertainment. As Rin just loses her head 'thanking' Kohaku, can he overcome the rage stoked by Naraku to save her again? Giving head was never meant to be like that! (rage)

**6. Measuring Up **  
Sesshoumaru, Inuyasha and Koga compete in a special contest; but what sort of contest is it when they all have to be naked; and what sort of prize would be worth the humiliation if they don't measure up? (opposites attract)

**7. My Gift, My Curse **  
One night, after he abducts Miroku, Naraku reveals another side of the 'curse' he perpetrates against the men of Miroku's family. (anal)

**8. Tented And Wet **  
Inuyasha 'suffers' through a special dream about Naraku. (with teeth)

**9. Thrill of The First **  
Miroku relives a moment of his past that awoke his lust for girls. Warning: it depicts a non-con encounter between a ~13yo Miroku and an older girl. (without consent)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Without Consent Theme_

**10. Flesh of My Flesh **  
In the dungeon Naraku torments Kagura in that sick and twisted way only he can. (blood play)

**11. Yielding To Suckling **  
Inuyasha is lusted over by Koga. (Inuyasha's cock)

**12. Air: I Know The Taste of Your Forbidden Flavor! **  
Mrs. Higurashi and Kagura share an intimate moment together. (yuri)

**13. Fire: The Colors of Your Sex Spur Me Into Orgasm**  
Just Koga and Miroku alone in the woods - and with an animalistic urge to devour each other! (yaoi)

**14. Earth: My Cherry Was Popped By The Touch of A Penisist **  
A discussion of erotic works produced by Shippo. (orgy)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Orgy Theme_

**15. Unrequited **  
Naraku is perplexed by his attraction toward Mrs. Higurashi; he tries to destroy that attraction but he might be left impotent to act! (angst)

**16. Water: Let Us Drown in Oceans of Our Juices **  
While walking through the woods, Miroku encounters a raccoon that brings up a series of repressed memories involving his lust for Hachi's genitals. (Hachi)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, Moderator's Choice, Hachi Theme_

**17. Vagina: When Snarfing Penis is Inappropriate **  
One night Koga relives a moment he shared with Kagome that led to disaster. (Kagome's nipples)

**18. Savor Refreshing Ice-Cold Penis **  
Kohaku and Kagura cling to each other after Naraku abuses them. (WAFF)

**19. Air: Sango, Why Do You Torment Boys With Kisses? **  
Sango develops an unhealthy and twisted obsession with boys. (obsession)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Obsession Theme_

**20. Fire: Inuyasha, Do You Dream of Cowboy And Indian Gayness? **  
Inuyasha is bored; he finds one of Kagome's schoolbooks and it breaks his brain. (haiku)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Haiku Theme_

**21. Earth: Hojo, We Meet Your Wetspot Again For The Last Time For The First Time **  
A reporter who's doing a story about crimes within the Tokyo commuter trains, features the exploits of Hojo, the crazed sexual predator. (public sex)

**22. Water: Koga, Across Time and Space I Rape You! **  
Inuyasha finds a very unique way to make love to Koga without the wolf knowing about it. Sick and Twisted alert. (Koga)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Koga Theme_

**23. I Know What You Did In Wyoming, Hojo Akitoki! **  
A gay Hojo Akitoki explores his father's roots in Wyoming and discovers more about himself than he could have imagined. (au/ar)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, AU/AR Theme_

**24. Why Do I Rape Wolf Demon Cock? **  
He would have Koga's meat all to himself! He, alone, would have the power to molest that demon, to explore every way imaginable every detail exposed of that man-wolf's anatomy! (spider)

**25. Do It With Your Tongue, Again, Hojo Akitoki! **  
Hojo is transfixed by the sight of naked Koga; his eyes wander all over Koga's flesh while his mind fantasizes about it. It's all 100% unadulterated wolf love. (beg)

**26. Kagome, What Are You Doing Under Koga's Pelt? **  
As much hedonism as possible within 100 words; Kagome jacks off Koga and gets a hand full of spunk :D (yes)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Yes Theme_

**27. What Is Wrong With You? **  
Kagome is grateful that her friends and family are safe at home for the holidays, but what are some of her friends thankful for? And what's the real story behind thanksgiving? (home)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Home Theme_

**28. You Can't Be Serious **  
Miroku's got a thing about old, old women/demonesses fondling him with their claws. (claws)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Claws Theme_

**29. Weird Story in F Major**  
Hojo's obsession with the grotesque leads him to sneak into the Higurashi's bathroom to experience something really sick and perverted. What possibly drives this obsession? Why Mrs. Higurashi? And was that really Mrs. Higurashi he was 'enjoying'? Oh, god, make it stop! (darksmut)

**30. Air: Kiss Me With Those Cheeks, Sango!**  
Miroku loves Sango's ass - really! - he loves every single thing about Sango's ass. There's nothing too dirty & nasty for the monk. (scent)

**31. Fire: I Am The Burning In Your Saddle**  
A book about Inuyasha is the basis of a strange relationship between a cowboy and an Indian. (convenient plot device)

**32. Earth: Do You See My Face When You Cum?**  
After Kagura's latest attempt to escape fail, Naraku keeps her locked up in the dungeon. There each and every night she must dance for Naraku while he masturbates. But this night she plans to be free of him forever and that's not all - she plans to avenge herself in the most unusual way... (deep)

**33. I'm Not Telling**  
Inuyasha's annoyed by a caller who just wants to be yelled at so he can cum. But does Inuyasha know who it is? And just why's Inuyasha taking those calls anyway? (dirty talk)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 3rd Place, Dirty Talk Theme_

**34. Water: You Need a Dose of Reality**  
Inuyasha is awoken by a strange sound...he investigates and discovers what looks like two mating animals. Is it what it appears to be? (incest)

**35. Stop It, Jaken**  
Rin is curious about what Jaken does behind a strange and secret door inside of his bedroom. Then, one night, she discovers the secret. Oh, god, why? (Jaken)

**36. The Wolf In The Iron Pelt**  
Good, old-fashioned Koga/Kagome PWP with a twist. Koga's forced to wear the Iron Pelt after the wicked, evil step-hanyou captures him. Even though Kagome can't touch Koga's bits and pieces, she still wants to enjoy all of his body and he just wants to do everything with her. (vulgar!fic)

**37. Don't Be Sniffing That!**  
Angered by what he sees as his father's dishonoring act of betrayal, Sesshoumaru sodomizes himself with the sword as revenge. But is the sword as lifeless as it appears? (love to hate)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, Mod's Choice, Hate to Love You Theme _

**38. Air: Kagome, I Only Shower Your Face With My Love!**  
While sleeping in a tree, Inuyasha fantasizes about Kagome - and loves to give the girl a few gifts in return. (gifts)

**39. Fire: Welcome To My Happy Happy Fun Time Pants**  
One sultry night Jakotsu and Bankotsu role play as cowboy and Indian. (sultry night)

**40. Earth: The Void Between Your Legs - I Bleed For You, Suikotsu!**  
What is Jakotsu hiding in a cave? Why is he crying out Inuyasha's name? And just what does Suikotsu have to do with this? (dog training)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Dog Training Theme_

**41. I Want You Forever**  
A sudden and unexpected kiss sparks a torrent of passion between two males. (first time)

**42. Water: Punish Me, White Shirt, I Was A Bad Shipper**  
Rin wants Lord Sesshoumaru to kiss her, really, really badly. (kiss)

**43. My Life As A Dog Demon's Vagina**  
After his father betrays his mother, Sesshoumaru tries to do everything possible to please his mother. Unfortunately, she develops a very warped and twisted way to deal with the way she was rejected in favor of a human - and it threatens to destroy not just Sesshoumaru's sanity but his best chance at happiness. (revisit - 13)

**44. Strong Enough For A Man, Built For A Woman**  
Mrs. Higurashi fucks herself with a sex toy - but is it that simple? Just what other kink could be involved? Hmmm... (sex toy)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Sex Toy Theme_

**45. Sango - I Fuck You Inside Out!**  
(AU, set in modern Japan) A lecherous (and "disturbed") monk lusts after a nun called Sango. She resists until, at last, he breaks her in. (Sango)

**46. :D**  
It's about a woman (Mrs. Higurashi) who gets very happy without touching. We witness her full blown orgasm but what's she watching behind the scenes? (rigid)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 2nd Place, Rigid Theme_

**47. The Shaman and The Fox**  
It's Sleeping Beauty with Indians (fairy tale)

**48. Why Don't You Ask?**  
This is all about Miroku talking about what's going on under his robes and wishing the females were asking him about it! Oh, poor frustrated monk, I'll unwrap ya :D explicit perverted fantasy with dirty sex talk and everything that could be squeezed into 550 words...100% pornz for the people (covert ops)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Covert Ops Theme_

**49. OMGWTFLOL**  
Rin sneaks off to find out just why Jaken loves to do the laundry at night. (undergarments)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, Undergarments Theme_

**50. Cuddle With My Plushie **  
Rin misses Sesshoumaru while unable to sleep next to Kohaku. (you named your dick what?)

**51. Youjo**  
At first it looks like Jaken/Kagura. But is it? And just how sick and perverted is Jaken? Lots of stuff's implied. (you named your girlie bits what?)

**52. Sit On My Lap Sweetie**  
Sango watches a pair of love-struck souls whilest they just stare at each other longingly in that mamihlapinatapai sort of way. but who are these lovers? and is it just mamihlapinatapai? o.O (mamihlapinatapai)

**53. To Be Thankful**  
Kohaku, though, chooses a most carnal way to express his thanks. naughty naughty and who would have thought Kanna? (thanks)

**54. This Is Why Masturbation Was Invented**  
While a boy, Inuyasha seeks shelter in a cave and finds the road to manhood with a quiet and mysterious woman. but who is that woman? and what is she doing in that dark, cold cave? just how healthy is this situation? and why am I asking all of these questions? (cold)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, Moderator's Choice, Cold Theme_

**55. Weird Story In A Minor **  
OK - this will be a very unconventional story. it's told uniquely from youkai!Inuyasha's point of view. he 'chases' human!Inuyasha as he hides during a lunar cycle; then, he torments him while he jacksoff thinking of Kagome. just like the demon is random, chaotic, unpredictable and savage - so is the narrative. (human/demon Inuyasha)

**56. To Tame The Beast**  
Hojo thinks his penis is possessed by a blood-thirsty (and fuck thirsty) demon and it's killing off all the girls who fail to satisfy it. now he's chasing after the girl he thinks can tame the beast. but is everything what it seems to be? this is a little bizarro. (chase)

**57. Head**  
Rin and Sesshoumaru play a game called 'head' which is totally not what you think it is. this is an example of what I'm calling my bizarro style. be warned! (I Saw You)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, 1st Place, I Saw You Theme_

**58. Sango - I Am The Cock Of Your Dreams (parts 1 and 2)**  
not exactly bizarro as I opted for regular sex content; I played with the rules a bit - hey I have to show love to Koga. poor wolf's gotten no action lately. there's a bit of a twist though and it won't be clear what it is until you read part 2. oh, and aside from the noun/pronoun change, I made another little tiny blink-and-you-miss change between the two parts. see if you can spot it :) (double trouble)

**59. Fluff**  
Sesshoumaru wonders what his fluff really is while Rin starts to play with it in a very unusual and suggestive way. mildly Bizarro. (fluff)

**60. In Bed They Won't Hear You Cum!**  
Hojo steals the infamous book of gay Cowboy & Indian poems and sleeps with it under the pillow. One night he dreams of the most epic sex with an Indian - but was it a dream? (perfect hedonist)  
_Inuyasha Hedonism, winner, perfect hedonist theme_


	2. Between Us

"**Between Us" by Abraxas (2008-05-02)**

Wrists struggled against silk. Arms fought the embrace of the restraint. Here and there, wherever the weakness of the flesh crumbled under the strength of the long, thin threads, blood trickled out of gashes like tears. Slowly and surely the web consumed the woman.

"Why? Against me!" The demon did not speak; words merely formed through the air. "Against the bond between us..."

A human-like hand with spider-like fingers stroked exposed and helpless breasts. That touch, flesh to flesh, magnified the cruelty of the violation with its delicate almost longing intimacy. A soul could have shattered at the thought of that that touch revealed.

Kagura resisted without a scream; Naraku wondered determined to probe the limit of the resolve – that puppet ought to be breakable.

Out of the hand erupted white, wet thread. It collected into a net that wrapped about a breast. The web throbbed and constricted. She bit her lip, wincing and shuddering and worming, as the net deformed the skin. It swelled through the gaps of the silky, sharp restraints. She stifled a scream, sweating and gasping and shaking like a fly trapped by a spider, as the spray of blood announced the obliteration of flesh.

She did not scream.

"Why don't you just kill me!"

He realized, too late, that he misjudged the depth of the bond. Its limit could not be reached. She could not be broken anymore than he could be conquered.

He recoiled; she cursed; the question was answered by silence.

**(250)**


	3. To Gaze Into The Forbidden

"**To Gaze Into the Forbidden" by Abraxas (2008-05-09)**

It was night and the moon loomed large and blue while the world settled into sleep.

Miroku sank beneath a blanket. He relaxed, as if lost with thought, yet keeping his eyes wide open. All the while he watched his friends resume their individual nocturnal habits. One by one the members of the group were conquered by sleep and soon the air was alive with a cacophony of snoring.

Everyone succumbed _but not Miroku_. To the monk sleep was pretense and night was cover for an operation unspeakable and perverted. If it was _just_ that massage exercised by men of his vigor, his urge, it would have been excused as normal. Even expected. Alas, it was not as simple as that.

To be safe and free of suspicion, he walked out of the camp slowly. Only when he cleared the area was he brave enough to run through that trail. He needed to get there, to find there that trophy. And he needed to be fast. Already hours and hours ahead, Nature was determined to obliterate, forever, that object of his passion.

_His passion!_

Who could have imagined such a thing would be his passion? The lust – what word described it? What language grasped it? Impossible! It was not meant to be chained by words.

Perhaps the strangest part of it was how it came to be. Although it consumed his fantasies when alone with his hands, he could not remember where the idea originated. It could have been that he stumbled upon it accidentally. Maybe it happened on a night like that, with the stars and the moon. Maybe, if that had been the introduction, he reacted with disgust. How so ever it transpired, by degrees, very gradually, it was transformed into obsession.

Yes, the thought led to the images – pictures – that sent his hands between his legs many, many nights.

Then it was not enough just to think about it.

There, between shrubs. There, upon grass. There, cloaked by shadow and light. At last he found it. And the sight of it induced a bulge that throbbed unapologetically. With a tug of fabric the restraint was loosened. Exposed and erect, he fell onto his knees dazed by a frenzy of stroking.

The sound of flesh slapping against flesh added its rhythm to the call of the night.

The pleasure swelled within his grip and pictures entered into his mind. Fragments of images.

_Sango – wandering. Sango – finding that safe, hidden place just for them. His hands untying sashes; her fingers gripping against clothes. Articles, undone, falling, collecting into piles discarded. Naked below the waist, she spreads her legs and bends her knees. The man watching the woman squatting. She, biting her lips. He, urging the act onward and onward._

"Give it to me!" he uttered, aloud, envying the view enjoyed by the grass under the squirming and squatting woman.

_Sango – gasping. Miroku – listening. Something – falling clump by clump._

As if to gaze into the forbidden, though confined within fantasy, he looked at the feces that piled between the woman's legs.

"Oh, yes, Sango! More, _more!_" he moaned aloud yet as if whispering to the Sango of imagination.

So complete was the fantasy that everything was imagined perfectly: from the contorting of her face to the curling of her toes, even the sounds of her straining wet and slippery droplets of feces.

He pictured her waste extruding out of her body. He acted, unable to resist that urge, his arousal plunging into his treasure of dung. Lumps of it were sifted through his grip; it smeared along his shaft up and down. The feel, still warm and soft, brought him into ecstasy. The tainted pleasure of it erupted across his fingers and splattered against his stash of feces.

He gasped and stumbled onto that heap. Covered by excrement, he did not panic. There would be time to prepare a cover about late night baths later – now he wanted to be alone with the feces of Sango!

**(666)**


	4. Tainted

"**Tainted" by Abraxas (2008-05-12)**

I hear you coming. Closer and closer. I do not see you. The cave obscures my vision. I hear but do not see and I rage. I curse at the confinement of my condition – to be imprisoned by flesh!

A scene of blossom – that mark of spring – wafts through a cool, autumnal breeze to tantalize with promises denied to me forever. Yet I hope! By that perfume of Nature I know you are inside with me.

Oh, your virginal piece of work. Light the torch and tease me with those fragments of your figure. Lean, hover, above and torture me with these suggestions of your sex. Clothes meant to unflatter only beg to be unwrapped. Eyes, distant as if empty, urge moment by moment to be free of their innocence.

Why do you insist on purity when I know you look!

You cannot hide that you study the catastrophe that I am. Is it the closest you come to the flesh of a man? Or is it that you take advantage of my condition? Fool! I will not resist what I wish to stoke within you. I want to lure you, deeply, closely, by design to corrupt you!

Against the pain I stir. You see it, Kikyou, while you linger applying the bandages. You see it, growing between my legs like a flower your attention nurtures. Those little touches, skin to skin, are the violations that bond you to me. You see it, throbbing, twitching, you cannot mistake it.

Say it is only accidental as if I believe you!

Reach it! Take it! Oh, my Kikyou! The thought of you -

You look away too soon! Burning, searing orgasmic pain! So complete a failure that you did not see it. Damn it, Kikyou!

Only your sleeve is tainted by my seed....

**(300)**


	5. Like A Wolf

"**Like a Wolf" by Abraxas (2008-05-18)**

Koga was so hard he almost exploded when he exposed it – but he held his fire and was rewarded with a mind-bending experience!

Tongue slurping his balls, licking his shaft – unbelievable! Mouth sucking juices out of his head – impossible! Weakened by the lips of his lover, he tried but could not repress tears.

He huffed and puffed like a wolf. He shivered as if caught by a storm. Then a howl announced his moment. White streaks gushed from his tip to his lover. Each shot surged through his shaft like its own little orgasm.

Koga gasped –

"That was perfect, Inuyasha!"

**(100)**


	6. Broken Into Fragments

"**Broken Into Fragments" by Abraxas (2008-05-30)**

The castle. The dungeon. A void of nothing stabbed by the light.

It was a mirror held by the hands of a tiny, fragile body.

A laugh erupted. Lips, eyes – the face of a man emerged through oblivion.

A scene unraveled across the face of the mirror – echoes of it eked out of the glass then vanished like wisps of smoke.

Slowly and deliberately Naraku smiled.

***********

It happened so quickly that Kohaku could not fathom it.

A girl. Met along the path. A conversation. Too trivial to remember anyway. A gang. Of demons wanting blood. Fragments of memories, diverging moment by moment, was the extent of it. The details were blurred by a corruption of the mind. He did not struggle against it – that condition – he accept it as part of reality.

It was the way he was made to be.

Still, as the two raced through the wilderness, she leading and he following, he wished at least to recall where they were doing and where they were going.

They stopped when they encountered a house.

"What's happening, Rin?" he asked.

It was so fast – so fast – he feared a tryst threatened the mission he had been sent to do.

The girl did not answer except to urge him into that house.

Within the structure, playfully and innocently, she lured him into a room. She pressed his body against the wall. Her kimono, untied, sagged and parted. Naked. He felt her skin – her flesh, warm and smooth, begged to be fondled. His hakama, loosened, tented and fell. Defenseless. She cupped his erection – his arousal, vigorous and potent, ached to be explored.

They shared a kiss.

"But is it safe?" he asked. "What if those demons find us?"

He did not recall what happened with the demons.

"They won't," she replied. "You killed them."

He sighed; she knelt.

Wet, sweet lips enveloped his tip. Teeth nipped his foreskin. He squirmed but did not cry. Slurping, bobbing, she suckled without mercy.

While his body was pleasured by the girl, his mind was gripped by a vision that he did not understand. It was as if he were trapped in a realm where time and space twisted into a series of impressions. Disjointed mixtures of sights and sounds. Memories, broking into fragments, merged chaotically from instant to instant.

At first the effect appeared to be random – then, gradually by degrees, a pattern emerged.

He sweated and panted. Constantly out of breath and restless. His eyes were glazed. Lifeless. He shook involuntarily while her hands teased the stem and her lips kissed the bud of his manhood flowering by the tenderness of the girl.

A voice gasped delighted at the stiffness the affection produced –

But Kohaku did not hear it –

The universe was stifled by the scream that played again and again within his mind.

And the face that uttered the scream!

_Who was she? _

Confusion evolved fear.

Visions of fire. Glimpses of children. A village was attacked. Men and women were struck by a sickle and broken into pieces. The chain of the weapon swung overhead. He almost screamed at the sight of it, whirling, twisting, as close as if to brush against his flesh.

At last a sight of the unspeakable came into view – death itself would have been preferable – it was his weapon, it was his sickle, his chain, it was his hand.

_He_ was the monster!

"Kohaku!" the face, scarred and bloodied, gasped with sorrowful eyes stabbing into his heart. "Why, Kohaku?"

"No!"

Fear became anger.

"I didn't do it! How can you think I did it? I didn't do it!" he yelled.

Rage surged like a rush of pleasure through his body. Throbbing, jerking. Reality melted into a haze. Vulnerable and powerless, he fell onto his knees, his body acting as if with a mind of its own. The ultimate betrayal of will.

When weakness succumbed to strength he was aware only of a surge of wetness. Warm, sticky wetness. And a strange pressure against his boyhood whose blossom withdrew into its bud. Confused and fearful, he gazed between his legs and screamed –

From the waist he was bathed by blood –

Yet that was the sight that froze his soul!

It was the head of the girl, severed below the neck by his weapon, the jaw clenched tight into his shaft.

***********

The creature, shaped into the figure of a man, chuckled as it fastened its hakama. Satisfied, it smiled. Completed, it returned into the void.

Only the mirror, with its slant of light, and its keeper, with its deceptively benign appearance, remained. Yet. The two were different. The two were changed. Stained by marks of violation – streaks of white - splattered against their faces, dangled like webwork.

**(800)**


	7. Measuring Up

"**Measuring Up" by Abraxas (2008-06-05)**

It was a cool summer evening when the demons gathered and waited to be inspected. As the sun set, the examiner entered the chamber, and the three male specimens grew nervous yet excited. Only _that _test remained – a test that could not be cheated – it separated the men from the boys!

Oh, the prize that contest promised!

No, no, no. They could not think of it. They forced their minds free of the idea. If they stirred, they would be disqualified.

The examiner stood by Sesshoumaru. Quickly and silently, the judge produced the instrument and pressed it against the demon's smooth, soft shaft. The mighty figure shivered at the contact – metal to skin – but the meek human was not moved.

"Too thin."

Sesshoumaru did not react _visibly_.

The examiner approached the man in the middle: Inuyasha!

The demon's long white hair covered his package. The examiner, who remained clothed, signaled with a finger and the hanyou, as naked as the others, spread away the cloak. What could be seen of his cock was its head and hint of its length as it lay flaccid upon his sack.

It was like a peanut between two almonds and the examiner could not help but chuckle at the sight.

"Too small."

The instrument was not used.

Inuyasha cursed, "It's too damn cold anyway!"

Koga remained.

The wolf's blue icy eyes glared ravenously at the examiner. Grinning as if to be tough, he licked his lips and betrayed a hunger too rough and wild to be satiable. He growled, curling those lips and exposing fangs, like an animal about to strike while the instrument was applied onto his rod. Then that expression softened with a wink into a smile when a hand clutched his sack and weighed it with its palm.

"Just right!"

The judge's lips brushed against Koga's tip and the wolf, gasping and panting, replied with a stir. He was unashamed – no – proud of the display of his manhood as it grew bigger and stiffer by the stimulation of those kisses. Bucking and shivering uncontrollably at the affection, he exaggerated his body's reactions a bit just to rub it into the competition.

Dejected, the other two demons shuffled out of the chamber with their tails between their legs.

"I told you _I am your wolf!_"

Koga grasped the examiner's shoulders and brought the figure up to its feet. He embraced the figure, gently yet tightly, overwhelmed by a surge of excitement. He grinded into the human, unable to resist the urge of his body, trickles of precum dripping onto the floor.

He earned his prize and he wanted it right then and there!

"My sweet, my eatable," he uttered breathlessly while licking the face that came into view.

Aroused by the wolf's passion, the judge was delighted by the ravaging of that tongue.

Biting his lips, groaning and moaning, almost tearing, Koga froze when hands clutched his equipment.

He shivered as he panted into the human's ear: "I'm your wolf, my Koharu!"

**(500)**


	8. My Gift, My Curse

"**My Gift, My Curse" by Abraxas (2008-06-13)**

"You – you – you want it, my monk!"

Miroku struggled against Naraku but, like a fly to a web, that trap of ropes and gags only tightened while he fought it.

Naraku licked behind Miroku's ear then bit into the flesh.

The youth shouted but those restraints muffled that cry.

The demon turned its face up and rested its chin atop the acolyte's head – thin red lines of blood drooled out of the corners of its lips.

"I know it, my monk. You cannot hide the urge. The lust is inbred into your family. Cultivated – by my power – from generation to generation. It is my gift, my curse!"

Naraku clutched Miroku's robes. The man tore the boy's clothes. It was a scene like a child unwrapping a gift. Grinning – a sight that could have frozen blood – he was rapt by the revelation of the youth's tight and virginal ass.

He clutched its cheeks and spread its crack to inspect what it cloaked with mere shadow and darkness. His hands shook as his fingers explored. A shudder of ecstasy coursed through his body. He knew it was _untouched_ but he was not prepared to be awed by its beauty. It was almost too perfect to be real and it begged to be violated.

Excitement betrayed fascination with the mystery of that organ and the promise of pleasure that awaited within it. He could not help but stroke it from the top to the bottom of the crack. And there, down, low, where Miroku's genitals dangled like fruit waiting to be picked, he discovered another realm that needed molestation.

A special kind of love.

The demon clutched the acolyte where he was vulnerable. Then, again, he licked and bit into its flesh. At last a scream rang through the dungeon. A laugh echoed along with it.

Pleased with himself, Naraku returned his gaze into Miroku's ass.

It was the shape of the opening that stirred the lust of the spider – a round, smooth rim with a smattering of hair like the lid of an eye.

"All your life you'll waste away turning from woman to woman. But you will not be satisfied! And you will not be fulfilled! Not by any woman. Search forever, you will not find a female capable of pleasuring you. You'll only be satisfied by a man!"

Naraku fell upon Miroku. Arms wrapped around shoulders. Legs wound about thighs. Grinding. Pounding. Like an animal to its prey. The beast's moves crazed into a frenzy until its cock pricked the youth's anus.

"You need that, my monk! Don't fight! Don't cry! You want that! A cock ramming into you. Exploding inside of you. Now – I grant your wish!"

Groaning.

Pounding.

Moaning.

Thrashing.

Miroku's passage out of virginity was a journey of pain and fear punctuated by a sliver of pleasure. Red eyes, breathless lips, and a bruised, battered body were the outward signs that a change occurred. Inward, however, Naraku knew there would be a plethora of deep and beautiful scars to torment the boy forever and ever.

Naraku sat by Miroku, petting, as if to console, the trembling youth.

That face and its emotion behind the gags did not matter. It was only that visage between the cheeks, that canvas of blood and semen, whose expression continued to fascinate the demon. Though its virginity was vanquished, it retained a kind of innocence as its eye-like opening gazed back tearful but not shattered.

"Admit it – you are fulfilled, my monk!"

The beast laughed while the youth lay quiet and still - then it vanished like a fog into the castle.

**(600)**


	9. Tented And Wet

**"Tented and Wet" by Abraxas (2008-06-22)**

The tentacles. So many, so many. Swatting, probing, wrapping - around his arms, his waist, his legs. There was not a part of his body free of the grip.

And that was the worst part of it.

Not the unexpected attack, the sudden capture. Not the fear when his clothes were torn off, the terror when is body was violated. It was the feel of those icy cold tentacles battering his skin and awaking that arousal between his legs!

The urge, burning at the tip of his cock, itched for fulfillment. Neither rage nor disgust softened the intensity of the need. Aghast, he could not fathom the mindless, incontrollable reaction of his body.

How could it be that he wanted that touch?

He, Inuyasha, wanted it!

"Cry out my name," the voice of the enemy slithered out of the abyss.

"I won't give you that pleasure!"

Teasing Inuyasha with kisses, Naraku watched the reactions of that contact, with satisfaction and fascination. The throbbing, the shivering, and the deep, red hue flashing across the hanyou's face - the embarrassment at the realization that control was lost, wrestled away without resistance by the power of lips against flesh. There could be no struggle against it, the victim's defiance crumbled, overwhelmed by the lust fed by the teeth and tongue and the monster could not help but laugh at that male display of vulnerability.

Naraku devoured the length of the half-breed.

Tongue with teeth massaged his tip. He knew nothing pure and innocent was capable of extracting such pleasure. He struggled against the tentacles but the restraints did not budge. He thrashed, he writhed, he yelped - agonized - yet nothing stopped the lips and their rhythmic oral stroking that consumed, like flame, the whole of his manhood.

And then, with a frenzy, Inuyasha lost the last shreds of control -

His cock, sore with toothmarks, wagged, it throbbed up and down, it squeezed with orgasmic pulses his cum out of his tip and onto a mess across Naraku's face.

"Naraku!" he shouted.

He felt the bursts exploding while gasping and shaking with each and every wad that boiled up form his balls.

"Damn you!" he cried while awakening still in that haze of cuming.

When it was finished he was breathless - weak - as the echoes of the orgasm slowly faded.

He cursed at his pants: the fabric was tented and wet.

Then the wind stirred with the whisper of the enemy: "Sweet dreams, Inuyasha!"

**(414)**


	10. Thrill Of The First

**"Thrill of the First" by Abraxas (2008-06-27)**

I wait to be alone, days and days, the time passing fretfully, achingly. I fear the opportunity will not arise again. Yet - with Kagome and Inuyasha away, with Sango and Shippo afar - at last I am able to continue the activity without fear of interruption.

They know the aim of my lechery. And it amuses them, especially, the antics of my hand grasping women. But they do not fathom the depth of my desire. My secret, hidden fantasy. I am not ashamed of it, rather, it is the kind of subject that ought not to be aired between friends - only between strangers with whom the unveiling is safest.

I am aroused by girls in the wake of womanhood. Those tender, fragile blossoms aching to be picked. With kindness and gentility I lure them into my arms where my touch - a stroke of the hair, a brush of the cheek - allows them the freedom to be bold. Safe. Protected. Able to express their feeling without judgment. Only the slightest provocation awakens within them those natural urges and curiosities to explore the functions of a man. Of course it is my honor to volunteer my body.

There is nothing greater than the thrill of being the first. That experience we share together, fleeting and beautiful like the flowers of spring, it is a bond that cannot be broken. Romanced and idealized as if a wish granted by the gods, it cannot by soured by the failure of a relationship. I will not be part of that string of men who follow that disappoint.

The thrill, the thrill - I know its ecstasy since the time of my first.

I recall it, while exposing myself within the chamber, I think of it and I grow into manhood as if I were clasped by those hands again. She was older - taller and stronger - and overpowered me with the simplest kind of trick. Tickling. Teasing. She probed everywhere flesh was naked and I, weakened by giggling, only squirmed. I begged to be freed but my tears were met with laughter.

From corner to corner of the room we tumbled until I fell onto my back and she spread my legs. She focused onto the cloth that covered my endowment. Neither my squirming nor my hands slapping and protested were enough. Within moments I felt the air against my skin and I knew, embarrassed and ashamed, that I was exposed.

The humiliation ebbed, however, with the onset of a feeling I could not have imagined possible.

She knew the secrets of my body and extracted every last possible pleasure out of it. She was amused to the point of mania by the sight of what I offered as a boy. She twisted and pulled it; she squeezed and cupped it; I was shocked by the familiarity she possessed about my most vulnerable private locations. That skillful yet rough mastery of my body awoke a yearning that only the manipulation of her fingers over my flesh sated. I grew stiffer and longer with the attention and that display of my reaction - my tip swelling, my shaft throbbing, even my face reddening - became the fodder of her mirth.

And then, while pinning my arms and smothering my legs, she took me into her mouth.

Unable to squirm I yelped. A fire burned within the head of my organ and I could not move. I was helpless under the weight of her body. I could not resist the power of her lips suckling and kissing the strength out of my will to fight. I cried that I feared I was going to make water. I struggled not only against the restraint but the urge.

She did not stop the onslaught.

Then, suddenly, I felt a strange sort of warmth course through my shaft and fill into my tip. I jerked, violently, against my will, I gasped, breathlessly. I feared the worst - it was not water - it was a white hot streak that spurted out of my body. I saw it splatter across her face until the world faded as if I fainted.

I look at my hands - my fingers are wet - the dew erupted out of my erection. Reliving that forced, first orgasm again brought me into climax. Yet remembering the event is not enough. As I sit and meditate I lust to be ravaged by a girl. To be made into a man, again, by the sweetness of lips against my flesh. I plan to use that day to find the creature able to quench my burning, aching need. I want to recapture the thrill of the first.

**(783)**


	11. Flesh of My Flesh

**"Flesh of My Flesh" by Abraxas (2008-07-09)**

Throughout that crypt the air attained a heavy metallic odor. It was not unpleasant, given the nature of the environment, yet its intrusion was unexpected and sudden. It was a fresh kind of odor, vivid and full of life, that betrayed the encroachment of life -- however fleeting its presence was -- into that eternal chamber of death.

A tongue flickered, darted in and out of a mouth, then stroked _ravenously_ between lips.

It was Naraku. Those parts of the demon that retained the proportions of a man emerged into view: head, torso, and hands. All the while twitchy, spider-like appendages remained enshadowed.

The creature savored the flavor of the air, its odor, which ebbed out of the realm of the senses just like the weak and fragile life that produced it.

Silence descended -- unbroken -- utterly contrasting the shriek that echoed still, like howls of ecstasy, inside the demon's thoughts.

Was it only that last breath past when the dungeon resounded with the vocalization of fear? Cursing. Screaming. Cries of help to the gods.

He scoffed at the futility! What god could have intervened? In the middle of hell there could be no divine intervention.

Oh, yet, how it ended -- the frenzy of the torment -- swiftly as if a blind shut and day turned to night. How pathetic was the nature of the living that its existence could be snuffed without resistance? And if a creation reflected the genius of its creator, what was revealed of gods by the weakness of life?

Still it fascinated Naraku. It was the curiosity of the predator which lurked behind distant and cold eyes. And like a cat to a rat it was time to play!

Naraku twisted and folded his legs into a web. The limbs, wet and dripping with flesh, tucked neatly under a waist that showed to be inhumanly thin. Thin like a spider's. He lowered his torso almost onto the floor, stopping only when the legs of the woman brushed against the skin of his face. With his hands he spread the female's legs and sniffed the air. A scent exuded out of what he intended to use as playground.

He gazed at it as if it were a prize to be conquered.

The sight of it was alien. Nightmare could not have induced such a mixture of light and dark. Hair, curled and black, blurred into the onyx void of dungeon beyond seamlessly. The slit, vertical within that forest, echoed the shade of the abyss and added its own peculiar mystery. What lay silent behind those lips? What if they could be made to scream -- he wondered -- what would be the sound of it?

The flesh was virginal and begged to be examined.

He inched toward it and noticed the effect.

A droplet of red -- the only color to be seen -- formed at that corner of the slit where lips kissed thighs. It grew moment by moment like a flower emerging out of a bud. As it expanded it quivered and he fancied that it shook though terrified. It extended beyond the crack. Freed. It fell onto the ground.

Another tear formed and he licked it. He smeared it about the woman's outward display of sex. And with that tip of the tongue he probed into the folds of the slit. Digging. Penetrating. Simulating a ravaging.

Urges swelling within his own engorged sex overwhelmed his icy and calm demeanor. Betrayed by his very own flesh he went from licking to engulfing. He grinded his face into her genital. With his lips and nose and eyes his senses devoured everything the woman offered.

That lapse of passion was a flicker and when it passed he withdrew the attention of his face -- gazing, again, his features were red not with shame but with blood.

Droplets trickled into a stream -- a line of red like a strand of web, thin yet unbroken, straddled the space between the mouth-like crack and the stones of the floor.

He cut the stream with his hands -- its blood pooled into his palm then overflowed.

The demon brought its hand to its lips then sipped the fluid as if it were tea and complimented its warm, inviting aroma, its taste like that of steel.

Was the no depth to depravity? If wickedness took shape, if evil condensed into man, would it not be Naraku?

Reveling the beauty of his work, again, he gazed into the realm between the legs of the woman. He lapped the folds of its flesh. He probed the slit amazed at its taught and silky softness. At last he bit into it. It was not a nip of love -- because it was not love -- rather, it was the expression of a very different kind of hunger altogether.

He bit and shook and tore away a chunk of skin. It ripped off the body like a fabric with a sloppy, wet sound. The wound that remained glistened with beads of blood. He watched it ooze while he devoured the flesh. A sly kind of smile, complete with red and dirty teeth, greeted the prey.

A few frenzied bites followed and the character of the sex transformed.

The lips of the slit formed into a blood-stained and grotesque gesture. Gone was the innocence. The mystery was overturned. The virginity was destroyed. Even its dignity was obliterated. Now only a ragged and jagged hole it aped a frozen, silent scream.

A pool of blood took shape between the woman's legs starting at a trickle and spreading away.

Naraku stood. Bits and pieces of flesh fell like crumbs and floated atop a sea of red. Ripples formed along its surface. The reflection of the beast shattered like a mirror broken.

The demon inhaled with its eyes the essence of the scene. From wall to wall the rocks of the cell were splattered with blood. It dried and lost its luster. A pity, he thought, for when it was fresh and new it glimmered like starlight.

Then a new yet familiar scent fill the air of the dungeon.

It was that unmistakable sign of death!

"Aren't you the gift that keeps giving?" mocked Naraku. "Kagura! What do you say?"

But there was no answer and there would be no answer. Ever. Only silence, profound and unfathomable, blanketed that underworld. That hell. And for a moment, an instant, he grew alarmed at that vast universe of solitude that awaited.

"Now -- now -- look at the spectacle you make of yourself!"

Kagura's eyes, frozen with shock, pierced its gaze like arrows aimed at the demon. A perfect reflection of death. The head was detached at the neck and rested askew between the shoulders. The chest, exposed and naked, was split into segments as if were the body of an insect -- each slice of flesh thorough and clean as though it were hacked by a butcher. The arms, too, were split at the elbows. Only the legs and area between them escaped intact.

She had been sliced by his web as it wrapped and tightened.

"Flesh of my flesh, I devour you back into me, Kagura!"

**(1200)**


	12. Yielding to Sucking

**"Yielding to Suckling" by Abraxas (2008-07-13)**

Inuyasha approaches that mat of straw clad only by thin red cloth -- it reveals through contours shapes of fruits ready to be picked.

The lover tugs off the cover like unwrapping gifts, revealing sights of unwholesome carnal pleasure.

A cock, soft yet rugged, rests snug atop a sack, between its balls. Its color unique to that sex. Its skin teased by curls of white. It aches to be awoken.

Lips meet tip. Kissing. Licking. Wetness feeds flesh's hunger.

The lover watches its transformation rapt by awe. Stirring. Growing. Lengthening. Hardening. Despite familiarity, which was total, the vision of it blossoming erect does not fail to amaze!

It trembles within the hand of the lover -- throbbing as if left breathless by passion -- it twitches with the slightest, gentlest touch.

Already droplets of dew form at its tip.

Kissing yielding to suckling --

"Koga!" moans Inuyasha as wolf devours.

**(150)**


	13. Air: I Know the Taste

**"Air: I Know the Taste of Your Forbidden Flavor!" by Abraxas (2008-08-09)**

Waving, they said good-bye without words. The daughter left the mother and vanished into that well. A gale then a flash and the woman was alone.

Higurashi's eyes swelled with tear. She could not endure the vastness of that temple _by herself_. Again. It was just too melancholic. And, more and more, there was a sense growing about the compound, through its sparse and deserted effects, that it was a ghost-town. Haunted with the past.

Then came another queer gale. Frigid, chilling tendrils of air blew like a kiss across her face. It was unexpected and sudden but _welcomed_. Turning aside she was met by that demoness.

"My Spirit of the Air!" she exclaimed, falling upon the creature exhausted by emotion. "I miss you -- so much!"

Shielded by that abundance of trees, their lips met and their eyes gazed longingly into each other. When they parted to catch their breath the woman smiled while the demoness looked on as if through a void. There was something sad yet beautiful about the spirit's red-hued eyes. Just as there was something yearning to be expressed by the human's parted lips. Holding hands, they were drawn into embrace, two souls separated by time and space and comforted by each other.

"I wonder if you're real," the mother whispered.

It did not bother Higurashi that Kagura was different: love's power blinded those inconsistencies of Nature between humans and demons.

Behind a door, in the middle of the hut, the demoness's robes tumbled off, away. Exposed, the spirit allowed her breasts to be cupped. Then stroked. Then kissed. Their firmness blossomed at the tenderness of the attention. Their nipples, too, grew firm and erect until they moistened with a white, warm dew.

The woman licked the milk then suckled.

The spirit moaned, uttering fragments of words through excitement.

The creature pressed the human's face harder, deeper into her own, nurturing flesh. Her milk trickled while she shivered with each and every drop that hunger urged out of her body. She tensed, her face contorting with pain and pleasure, moaning and gasping, she climaxed with a rush of milk that splattered against the mother's face.

Together they remained bonded as the life of the temple echoed into the hut.

A gale rattled the door ajar and again Higurashi knew she was alone but with the taste of milk still fresh it would not be forever.

**(400)**


	14. Fire: The Colors of Your Sex

**"Fire: The Colors of Your Sex Spur Me Into Orgasm!" by Abraxas (2008-08-15)**

Koga grasped Miroku by the ponytail. The wolf jumped atop the monk -- together they stumbled against a tree, its leaves scrapped their faces. Then their lips were upon lips. Then their hands were upon bodies. And the forest echoed their wild, agonized yelps of passion uttered through gasps.

They kissed as if to devour each other -- as though they were reality and the world was illusion -- so completely overwhelmed by that hunger of a love long-denied now realized.

The demon broke off the kiss while the human's hands continued that massing and groping of bare naked ass beneath furs. The wolf's fingers were busy, too, stroking that bulge tenting through robes. Eyes locked into each other as tightly as lips consuming with look and gaze the beauty of their features.

"I want you. All of you. Every last part of you."

Koga smiled while Miroku gasped when at last his naughty hands reached the creature's erection.

Koga shuddered, helplessly, at Miroku's touch.

Claws ripped fabric, robes and furs alike, which tumbled about feet.

Again the demon shuddered -- now at the sight of the human. It was so perfect! Smooth, hairless skin cut with muscles. It was so gorgeous! His hands could not help the urge roam and massage and explore the flesh. His lips could not fight the need to kiss everything from the lips, down the neck, between the ribs, to the erection that stood unashamed. Even the sack that hung tight and rough did not escape attention -- the ridges of its skin glinted wet with saliva. Yes, it, that body of Miroku, it demanded to be ravished!

And, there, between the monk's legs, there, the wolf found a rapture of pleasure he could not have fantasized possible with a pack of women. At the sight of it he almost fainted. At the feel of it he knew he could not endure the depravity of virginity . So smooth yet so hard, it trembled with a heartbeat of its own. He grasped it, devoured it.

Just the visceral reality of a cock sliding within his mouth boiled his seed -- it splattered out of his tip -- and he nipped, slightly, overwhelmed by a reflex to grit teeth.

Miroku yelped and withdrew.

Koga spat a mouthful of semen.

Soft and dirty with their love, wolf curled with monk, under the shadow of the tree.

**(400)**


	15. Earth: My Cherry Was Popped

**"Earth: My Cherry was Popped By the Touch of a Penisist" by Abraxas (2008-08-23)**

While the enigma of Shippo's Dragon remains unsolved, its mystery scattered about my desk, I pause to discuss a matter tangentially related to the object of my thesis.

Among the documents uncovered at the Higurashi Temple, the bulk of which amount to Miroku's 'Confession of a Right Hand', folded within a book was a unique artistic artifact. I was not shocked by it, considering that book centered about the monk's history of depravity, however, its discovery prompted the obsession to detail its history.

Given the nature of the artifact, it left the impression that it was connected to the Confession. That it could be a series of illustrations of the work. It was a practice of the publishers of that time to include a drawing as reference. I offer as proof Soseki's 'The Forbidden Colors of Male Love' and Tanizaki's 'Diseases of Southern Osaka', with its images of genitals, malformed and infected, still displayed at the Archives of Tokyo University. So, with that knowledge of the industry, I supposed that Miroku - who was, admittedly, short of funds toward the end of life - sent the script to a publisher along with proofs of illustrations.

That theory had to be abandoned, however, as the illustrations were too perfect to be rough. The artifact, a series of silk-on-wood paintings, was itself too ornately constructed just to be disposable. And the most telling and damning evidence was that the 'plot' revealed by the images did not match with the text.

The lack of agreement could be explained if we assume the Confessions were censored but anyone as familiar with the Confession as I would be struck dumb if asked to explain why _anything_ would have been redacted. Why strike out the scenes of orgy from a book that contained such facts as the size and variation of color of Miroku's genitals, a method to induce ejaculation without masturbation and other, sprawling pages livened with the tales of conquests?

Certainly, publishers of the time could not print enough copies of the Confession to meet demand, so I cannot imagine any of them redacting a scene of such vivid erotica.

The only conclusion was that the artifact was not connected to the Confession. Rather, I believe, it was a possession of the monk. Were I to borrow a lose kind of language, then, I would have to say it was Miroku's pornography.

(I include a copy of the artifact.)

There are other, little images about the corners, however, the first page is dominated by the illustration of the orgy. From top to bottom it shows: feet, some 'clean', some tattooed, legs intertwined with legs, also alternatively clean and tattooed, and, suddenly, the buttocks of the central-figure comes into view. There are two hands spreading apart the checks while another figure - a male - probes with fingers into the space of the crack. The buttocks melts into the area of the back where the tattoo of a dragon is fragmented by a woman who lays askew of the central-figure: her breasts are exposed and her hands are cupped about her vagina as if to offer it to the viewer. Notice that the woman is smeared (within the artwork) by semen; notice, too, that the painting of nipples and the vagina are stained as if by water.

The head of the central-figure remains almost as afterthought, its back toward us, its face away, we cannot determine the identity beyond what the images of the ears suggest.

The second page presents the reverse of the first page - that is, it is the same exact orgy but the view was changed so that where we used to see backs now we are permitted to see fronts. Immediately we notice the penis: erect and painted with the tattoo of a dragon. Semen-like streams taint its shaft while its tip is teased by the lips of a woman. The other, free hand of that male probing the anus is seen clutching the base of the penis. Meanwhile other women gaze lustfully as they grasp onto the sack between the legs of the central-figure.

Then, again, as if we forget, at last we come to the head of the central-figure. Clearly, unmistakably, even through the mask of a grimace contorted by pleasure, it cannot be denied any longer. Yes, the shade of the hair, the proportions of the face - the eyes, the ears - it was the artist himself, _Shippo_, revealed in all of his glory.

All of the details are uncannily life-like as if it were captured on film then drawn on paper. But we must stop. And we must reflect. At the genius of it. Because, of course, we know such a convenience did not exist within the timeframe of the Feudal Era.

The first two pages are imaginative to the extreme and superbly executed erotica.

Beyond that masterpiece are a slate of other, minor works. Upon the fourth page: men self-pleasuring while women gang-raping with fish-shaped dildos. Upon the fifth page: another likeness of the artist now pleasuring five women - who are already pleasuring five men with various degrees of felatio. I cannot describe with words the magnificence of the sixth and last page: I leave the stains of semen upon it as testament to its power.

I draw conclusion by tying the artifact to my thesis. Although I cannot prove it, I believe its plethora of dragon-tattoos are a sign. Clearly, monk and artist shared a peculiar kind of relationship if such material could be passed (and used) between them. Perhaps Miroku guided Shippo's sexuality? Perhaps they shared fetishes? A fresh read of the Confession, with an eye toward details of Shippo's life, will be part of my research. As will be a study of another, recent discovery - papers by a Souten. My hope is that all of these materials and the connections between them will complete a picture of the artist and yield the answer to the mystery of Shippo's Dragon.

**(1000)**


	16. Unrequited

**"Unrequited" by Abraxas (2008-08-30)**

Naraku could not take another moment of it. Seeing, watching _her._ The way she smiled through tears. Her head tilted. Her eyes unfocused. And her slow, eerie walk. The whole of that image agonized the urges of his body which only wanted more and more.

The spider tried but could not imagine a single thought of evil. It was as if his soul were purified just by the presence of that woman. And he was baffled by the impotence of his mind....

A bird chirped; a tentacle grasped. The song cut mid-syllable. Only the rustle of branches completed the melody. Yet, within its grip, the demon could not complete the act.

What if she found it? he thought, again and again, trapped by conscience of guilt.

The grip of the tentacle faded as it dissolved within his body.

That bird fluttered away.

A tear streaked Naraku's face.

Life was, always, a thing to be played with - thus, he asked, where did it come from? That restraint! Hesitation? Was it _her?_ How could it be her?

It was not about the Jewel - it was as it was always all about Nraku!

He was struck by that woman's power the moment they met. That day when he mingled with the tourists at the temple it changed the universe. He knew who it was by the scent of the daughter and he prepared to act but a glimpse of that face, those eyes, _heartbroken_, those steps, _abandoned,_ prevented the blow.

By the gods, it was the most beautiful visage and the very existence of it devastated his power. All of his life he tried to extract that emotion. Always it failed. Fear, rage and anger if not death itself were the results of his interfering with the world. Never, never. Not a single face gazed back like that!

He could not fathom the depth of love behind those eyes.

Naraku waited until sunset. He wanted the cover of night, pure and natural night, to cloak his whereabouts. Through the trees. Across the fields. Up the facade. The spider's movement, though erotic, could have frozen the bloody of any unlucky viewer.

He reached a window of that house. Lift flickered beyond it -she was inside! - he peaked into the bedroom through the corner of the glass.

The woman stepped out of the shower. Steam alone cloaked her body. He was taken aback by the exposure and looked away. Breathless at the reaction her flesh induced with his body. The weakness could not be denied - the desire demanded to be expressed. He was consumed by it and he could not stand it any longer.

The light extinguished and the woman slipped into bed.

The demon waited until she slept and then slithered into the room. The creature crawled, insect-like, across the floor without disturbing or creaking it. It reached the mattress and loomed above the object of desire.

Naraku salivated, aware of urges he had not dreamt of.

He tugged the covers with the patience of a predator. He pulled the blankets until the breasts were exposed. With fingers outstretched like the legs of a spider, he stroked the nipples , then, he bathed the skin with swirls of vast, limitless touch. All the while he twitched within then poked though the fabric of kimono so overwhelmed by the reality that he was flesh-to-flesh with that woman.

He could not kill her _physically_ as he did not want a world without her. He ceded that to love. But the price to pay for life was corruption! If he could not kill her, he was going to violate her until she turned into just another human, like the rest that he destroyed.

Then, indeed, she would be nothing!

His kimono parted; his erection revealed itself fully.

The spider straddled the woman. His feet by her waist. His knees by her elbows. He spread his legs and tilted forward. His genitals slid against the blanket - then - they nestled against the breasts of the sleeper. The contact of his penis atop her flesh was electric and, again, he was paralyzed by it. Like a kind of impotence.

Then - the woman's eyes opened!

Mrs. Higurashi screamed then swatted the spider off. It scampered out of the window. She shut it and, with the covers wrapped about her body, she stared through the glass. What seemed to be eight, little points of light - color eerie shades of red - gazed back then it, too, melted into night.

**(750)**


	17. Water: Let Us Drown In Oceans

**"Water: Let Us Drown in Oceans of Our Juices!" by Abraxas (2008-09-04)**

I met a raccoon along the road to Osaka. It was a small, furry creature darting in and out of the undergrowth, foraging for nuts, berries. As it came into view _boldly _its shape caught my attention and its eyes - with that mask-like coloring - demanded my sympathy. I could not escape the gaze of its eyes. It was, it seemed to be, that we shared _something._ We, man and beast, were connected by threads impossible to describe with just mere words.

While I stood and gazed, my heart beating and my breath racing, I was overcome, instantly, by a memory almost forgotten through the gulf of years.

The truth was that I felt the embers of a friendship with that raccoon because it reminded me of my Hachi. My Hachi, even now - now as I confess - I cannot help but feel the sweetest and gentlest affection toward that tanuki whose friendship lighted my youth. Oh, by the gods, how I regret the loss of those intimacies known only to a child - the seemingly unquestionable, the apparently innocent contacts we shared - who would have suspected the meaning I attached to those moments even when it was only his warm, fuzzy arms that comforted my fears.

So, projecting my feeling of friendship, I sat atop a rock and I offered a portion of my lunch.

Smiling then and now I was charged by the touch of the creature's tiny, human-like fingers while it grasped the food out of my hands.

Then and there, as flesh brushed against flesh, the odor of musk induced a vision. From depths beyond understanding, across realms of conscience we were not meant to explore _within this world_, there emerged an event blocked by the shock of it. Amnesia, perhaps, designed to protect the psyche of a child. The feelings that erupted cemented that impression - how could it be that I, as a boy, imagined such things?

I had to relive it, again and again, to fathom the depth of the event - so vivid and so blatant was that memory! And what it revealed was a truth that shattered the narrative of my past. All of a sudden, fragments of events that transpired through the years, bits and pieces of recollections that seemed to be random - even disconnected - attained unexpected cohesion. Indeed, a new kind of story emerged out of the void.

I opened my eyes as if waking out of a dream. The sun glinted through skies streaked by clouds. I knew by the character of the landscape that I was within the forests behind the temple. And that I was under the cover of its trees - monkeys swayed from branch to branch as I gazed with my head aback atop my knotted shoulders. Then, little by little, facets of my condition emerged. I was aware of my nakedness as water lapped against my body; I was sitting with the banks of a river, my waist to my feet submerged.

A splash hit my face as its sound assaulted my ears. I looked toward the cause of the disturbance. It was Hachi, emerging out of the waves, as exposed as the tanuki could have been with a coat of fur.

Yes, there was a part of the figure that fur could not obscure. I had not noticed it, I had not imagined it. That anything like that was possible. The proportions were so out of character given not only his nature as loving, kind monk but also the very measurements of his body itself. It was fearless display of masculinity, raw and unapologetic, and _disturbingly_ beautiful.

I must have stared too intensely, I feared, yet I could not turn away.

Seeing it, wet and glorious, I felt the urge to reach toward it. Touch it, pet it! Shower it with affection.

Of course, there were memories of that day that were not obscured by amnesia. There were those moments when we headed toward the river to play. And when we returned toward the temple to rest. The vast middle of the event was a blur until I relived that day along the road and, after it returned, something about the day that I always remembered became _obvious_. It was after we dried and re-dressed: I hugged Hachi. I squeezed the tanuki tightly. Tightly as though to merge. I stroked the demon's head - the fur rolling through my fingers like they were the teeth of a comb. My friend was amused by the attention yet, while I acted, I could not fathom why I would be so affectionate after what would have been an ordinary, normal outing.

I could not fathom that reaction until the image of Hachi's exposure returned!

I returned to the scene by the road. The raccoon rummaged through my stash: it flung items away as it straddled the mouth of the sack with its tail pointed toward my face. From a certain angle, with the right kind of light, the profile of its leg was shaded with the suggestion of humanity, a sleek and muscular anatomy. It lifted its tail and I could not help but examine what it offered. There was a moment of disappointment when I realized it was not endowed with those features of a tanuki. It was _decorated_ - although its proportions were correct with respect to the size of its body - and, again, I fought the urge to fondle those fruits ripe between legs.

Yes, the urges, the needs, the desires, it was coming back like the turning of the tides!

As much as I wanted to explore the body of my friend I knew, too, I could not take that step. He would not agree, surely, he could not let me. And how, oh how, to breach the subject? Instead, I took advantage of every bit of _acceptable _contact we shared. I hugged him because no one questioned it. I stroked him - his fur - because it was a common thing to do with a friend endowed with such a coat. It would have been impossible to imagine the arousal that contact spurred within my body. Impossible and unthinkable!

The seeing of it - always and forever distantly. The denial of it - that I could not express my love of it. And the torment of it - that it could be _there,_ just under layers of fabric,yet it might as well be at the edge of the universe.

Night after night I imagined what Hachi felt where I could not touch. I understood what the fur and what the fuzz of that region would have been like. What I struggled with was the flesh. The texture of its ridges. The sense of its mass, the folds of its flesh dropping along my palms while resting within my grip. I pictured myself at that moment, at that instant, when my fingers broke through the barrier that separated idol and worshiper, and I shuddered _orgasmicly_ at the thought of exploring those intricacies of its features.

Those were wet, sloppy nights when I fantasized.

I remember clutching a scrap of cloth I kept within my pillow - it was a cut of that tanuki's loincloth that I stole out of the laundry and it was ripe with musk of sex which I inhaled like drowning gasping air.

My revelation about the demon's secret and hidden masculine beauty caused the relationship between us to change through a number of subtle little ways. Only I appreciated the effect of that alteration. Then I used to be closer to Mushin, now I was with Hachi more and more. I manufactured excuses just to be with the creature. As much as possible, without revealing obsession, I opened lines of communications with the tanuki and discussed my hopes and fears. Then I used the emotional closeness to gain physical closeness: I spent many nights weeping into his shoulder and imploring him to stay with me.

Hachi curled behind me, unblanketed, while I wept because again i was so close yet so far.

It _was _obsession. Queer and alien to my spirit. As far as childhood, when I suckled the breasts of nuns, I felt attraction for females. They were so different and mysterious. I had not felt anything close to arousal by males. But then, when I think about it, I did not know too many different males and those I knew did not arouse me with their bodies anywhere as much as the sight of the nipples of the oldest kind of woman. Further, nothing matched the ease of access to that flesh - it was almost _expected_ that men parted women's kimono to sate their urge to climax whenever and wherever the opportunity arose.

Compare that to the flesh of the male that could not be looked at without stirring suspicion....

I had not felt anything for another of my sex until that scene by the river when I was overwhelmed by how beautiful the exaggerated masculine character could be!

The forbidden nature of that love only heightened the sensations with its own unique excitement.

Beyond the regular affection between friends, the boldest overt act I dared to do was that night when, by the fire, I sat atop the tanuki's lap. I rested my head against the bulk of his body and he drew his arms about me. There, together, silently, I fancied that the heat of my body warmed the flesh denied to me - it was like loving it across a distance.

I was shaken out of my trance when an item was flung out of my sack and slapped against my face.

The raccoon had had its way with my gear and now seemed to make a home within my bag. Be mused, I brought it - the sack along with the creature inside of it - I brought it onto my lap. I brought it against the tent of my excitement which was pronounced. I clutched the lip of the bag tightly while I exposed my violet little head - it trickled with its own peculiar dew. Almost instinctively I pressed the bag against it. Without thinking I stroked myself with the sack and with the raccoon within the sack. Screeching and fighting. Bits of claws protruded through the canvas and scratched blood out of my flesh but the pleasure of the contact was too great....

We are composites of countless, contradictory impulses that just slightly coalesce coherently into identity. We are slaves to reflexes we cannot comprehend. Let alone control. If we cannot control what we love find to be beautiful then what do we control? What is this that we pretend to master?

I was tormented by desire that women could not quench! The fire burned with every moment that lust was not consummated. The scar that marked my inner, psychological development bled into my sheets with the juice of my sex.

I could not have what I wanted and I feared then I accepted that it would be that way forever.

I contemplated severing my relationship with Hachi. But I could not do it - and I could not do it anymore than I could have expressed my desires to my tanuki demon. Either way I risked that friendship I desired. So I walked a line. So much had to be hidden yet with hugs and pettings here and there so much could be revealed. Perhaps, yes, perhaps, my friend would have noticed the attention and could be the first to act.

Then there was that moment when my struggle reached its climax.

Mushin and I argued the typical kind of fight between opposites of generations. I was upset and I decided, impetuously, to run away. I was still young, I did not know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. I just wanted to run away.

In the middle of the night, when no body looked, I ventured out of the temple.

I passed that river where it seemed like ages ago I stumbled upon unspeakable and unimaginable revelations. I opted to follow the course of the current. It was bound to lead into the ocean. There, doubtless at the site of a village, I was determined - and confident - that my wits were going to shape my future.

I did not know how long I walked only that eventually the facade of the temple faded, swallowed entirely by the trees. The pathway I followed narrowed and grew quiet, overgrown. I felt a kind of terror I was not familiar with - except, perhaps, that moment when I realized my father was not returning. Then, when the moon arose and the stars painted the sky I could not deny that I was alone.

At the trunk of a tree I sulked and wept.

Suddenly a hand clutched my shoulder...suddenly my heart skilled a beat...I looked and it was Hachi!

I sighed and collapsed into the demon's arms. I hugged and he squeezed. I petted and he rubbed his muzzle against my cheek. Then, after endless, silent eternities, I arose and kissed the creature's forehead.

The gesture was not part of the routine. It was pointedly out of character. And it was, I admit, act of desperation. I reasoned that it was worth the risk. I surmised that, since my relationship with the temple was doomed, I was going to lose all of those connections with that part of my life _even Hachi_.

To my surprise Hachi held my hand and squeezed while gazing into my eyes. And - and - while staring back I became aware of a new and different kind of beauty of the tanuki. I had been so obsessed by what was kept obscured between his legs that I rudely overlooked the other, accessible features. The way he looked at me, with such purpose - such determination - such lust, pure and animalistic, it was a window into the masculine I could not imagine would be shared with me.

I reached the whiskers of his muzzle and stroked its length with every ounce of longing begging release. He embraced me with a force greater than any kind of squeeze I thought I was capable of. I think I knew then and there what it was to be a woman penetrated by a man and it excited me into speechlessness that my dear and best friend wanted to share that sensation with me.

Along that road, with sweat and other bodily fluids wetting my clothes, breathlessly as if my first encounter with sex, I recalled _anew _what happened next.

Hachi's clothes vanished and revealed the sight of those two, lovely mounds within their sack. They were so immense they dwarfed the wet, pink organ that hovered above. I stroked the length of fresh that twitched wildly within my fingers. I caressed the space between the gonads and watched, with fascination, the reactions of the skin. The way the sack bounced as its flesh tightened and relaxed; the way the skin's texture changed from smooth to rigid. I knelt and kissed the tip of his length to show my appreciation of its intimacy, its dew spread across my lips, its scent almost spurred me into orgasm.

Then the sack expanded and the demon transformed into an immense, floating being. I found myself upon it - upon the body of the creature - which turned out to be the enlargement of its sex. The tanuki inflated its sex and used the air to fly....

As we soared through the sky I snuggled between the two, round gonads. I stroked their lengths. Thoroughly. I kissed and licked their features. I massaged the shaft that straddled the sack. I drowned within the fields of fuzz that coated their flesh! Within the space of minutes - no, seconds - I lived years of fantasy. With my hands, my lips, my whole, entire body pouring my affection _I loved _Hachi's genitals.

I stroked his organ, which at last expanded to equal the proportions of his sack, I massaged his tip, which leaked a steady stream of dew. Then, it twitched - throbbing with the rhythm of his pulse - and erupted with a spray of seed. I rubbed his tip as he fired shot after shot until the shaft deflated and retreated. Satisfied _and proud _I sat and gazed at my hands which were soaked with juices as were my clothes.

We bathed at the river then dressed with wet, soggy robes.

Hachi kissed my lips then wrapped a ribbon around my hand.

But he would not let me kiss him and he would not let me feel his body through his fabric. I was distressed then he explained _I did not need it anymore_ - the curiosity had been satisfied. What was left to do? Surely, he felt, given the nature of my family, I could not be serious about a relationship with a male. I needed to be with a female without these questions and desires pent-up within my mind. Sated I would be free....

But I was not free!

And I could not, _ever_, be free!

The sent of his sex still taints the odor of my body!

I dropped my sack, stained with my seed, and it remained still, lifeless - my sacrifice to the tanuki.

The curiosity could not be sated. Oh, no, no, no. Now, at last, that I understood the complete history of my past, now that I knew the taste of that love, I wanted it more and more. My escapades with girl have been nothing but theater for a world that expects me to fill a certain kind of role. I cannot now deny the intensity of my nature! So raw and mindless as if impelled by the urges of animals locked within my mind. The love between man and woman could not equal the purity of that union I shared with Hachi when the walls between us tumbled.

Looking at the body of the raccoon I knew nothing was able to restrain my desire for the testicles of Hachi and I resolved, then and there, to keep the tanuki _forever._

**(3051)**


	18. Vagina: When Snarfing Penis is

**"Vagina: When Snarfing Penis Is Inappropriate" by Abraxas (2008-09-06)**

The tribe slept and Koga escaped into that cave.

He _needed_ it! _Wanted_ it! Time alone with Kagome. Weeks passed since he released last.

He loved Kagome - it didn't matter that she fled with the dog. Inuyasha wouldn't - couldn't - keep all of that woman.

Kagome's taste was burned into Koga's lips but that wasn't the only trophy....

Under the lid, within the box, was that relic - seeing it again Koga reached into his pelt....

_...his face between her breasts...her hands atop his penis...he kissed, she tugged his skin...he bit, she rubbed his tip...swelling, stiffening, exploding...demon became animal leashed only by that woman's fingers...._

She screamed!

He didn't remember what happened.

Koga's hand was wet. He sprinkled the seed atop the relic as if making love though it was with only a part of Kagome. There, caked within waste, petrified by time, there, digested, was Kagome's nipple!

**(150)**


	19. Savor Refreshing IceCold Penis

**"Savor Refreshing Ice-Cold Penis!" by Abraxas (2008-09-15)**

The spider withdrew leaving behind Kohaku and Kagura like the scraps of a meal.

The boy was the first to awaken. He had been stirred by footsteps and a trickle of debris falling from the roof to the floor. He turned, instinctively, toward the hatchway. It was shut - the monster was gone - but that was not a relief....

The demoness shivered but it was not the cold.

Kohaku nestled his head atop Kagura's shoulder. Their hands, tentative then determined, roamed about their heads, necks, and backs. Skin to skin. Their bodies were naked and intertwined into a knot of flesh. The intimacy of their touch was heightened by their secrecy.

Their last real memories involved them ripping off their clothes while those red eyes watched. Flashes, random and disconnected, revealed the experience. Fragments of what happened, little by little, formed a mosaic of the event.

Kohaku could not believe it - that he had been used to commit that kind of savagery - it was too cruel to be true.

Yet the taste of it was fresh upon his lips!

He rolled back slightly and shifted off of the woman. As their skin, wet and sticky, uncoupled, the boy was aware of a deep, burning pain between his legs. Then, gradually, it was followed by a loss of strength. But he could not stop it - he needed to know what Naraku caused them to do.

Kagura's vagina was a void of black. There was nothing left but tethers of shredded and chewed flesh. Rivers of blood squirted out of the wound. Then, against every urge of preservation, he gazed between his own legs. Kohaku did not know what he saw, exactly, only that whatever it was it could not be recognized as genitals.

Kagura grasped Kohaku and they held each other tightly. His face against her breast. It was only then that they became aware of damages scarring those parts of their bodies. Transformed by the spider's game of teeth and claw, there was only just enough left to resemble their humanity.

Kohaku and Kagura kissed - their wounds, perversely symmetric, pressed together like lips....

With their last bit of strength the curled into each other. Their love could not be conquered by any earthly power. As their blood mixed and flowed and their world faded away, as they died in each other's arms, they denied their enemy that victory.

**(415)**


	20. Air: Sango, Why Do You Torment Boys?

**"Air: Sango, Why You Molest Boys With Kisses?" by Abraxas (2008-09-21)**

I wasn't a normal little girl. It didn't involve my family's profession - within my village it wasn't special - I guess I wasn't born right. The wrong time and space. The wrong body. I just wasn't like the others and it expressed itself through this altogether very different fixation.

No one could have suspected it - even Kohaku was oblivious of the passion that drove the obsession. The very thought of it would have been as alien as Kagome's future era. Unthinkable. Sinful. Wrong - I wonder.

I don't think it's unnatural. This thing of mine isn't robbery or murder. _Or rape._ It couldn't be! No. It couldn't be?

I swear it's wholesome, simple innocence. It's victimless. And I refuse to reconsider it. I know it is natural. Although the subject is delicate. Once it's breached my boys don't fight it.

I tell you it's without a victim. How can they be hurt? How can _I_ be hurt? To be sure there tends to be a shock. A hesitation. I find persistence and a show of tenderness overcomes the fear. Acting natural - as if it were, indeed, a thing to do with children - fosters trust. Soon it becomes a special little treat to look forward to.

It's a kind of universal curiosity. I'm different, because, I'm not afraid of it. I express it. Where others would be uncomfortable I'm not ashamed. Maybe, then, maybe it's due to my upbringing. That my training as a slayer awakened the masculine within.

I've always been fascinated. It's the mystery of the sexes but it's not sexual. It's a desire that's profound yet subtle. I find it's a union superior to sex. This obsession. It's a communion unlike mere, gratuitous penetration. This fixation - it's the yearning toward a window into what it would be like to inhabit the bodies of boys.

It's a bond. A sweet, gentle connection. Why would it be sin?

I remember the moment I was struck by desire.

I saw it by accident when Kohaku and I trekked through the forest. I didn't mean to catch my own, little brother. Honest. But what happened happened. And I was addicted. Soon I watched whenever the opportunity arrived. Nudity - the body itself - isn't taboo. I know he didn't mind it and I didn't force it anyway. Then, with time, then it wasn't enough just to watch.

Yes - I remember the instant my life changed!

When I reached through that wall between the sexes I was overwhelmed by Kohaku's visible and striking reaction. A shyness mixed with nervousness. A feeling of pure, innocent intimacy. It's missing with men yet abundant with boys.

It's so beyond their expectation of what's possible -

And it doesn't hurt my boys. They're not altered. Their behavior doesn't change. At least until they grow out of it - that age from boyhood to manhood - when they understand the pleasures of their bodies. Then the magic of that moment fades away like a flower wilting. It is then and only then that the true victim is revealed - I!

To suffer what I suffer….

The worst of my string of heartbreaks was Shippo - there had been many, many boys though only Shippo was truly beautiful - I want to remember the first not the last.

Thoughts of the kitsune tainted my life awake and asleep. My torment was stoked by those suggestions of nakedness I snatched along the travels. What I saw was so tender and sweet. Virginal, smooth skin. Undeveloped even immature features. The bud of a flower that I fantasized growing with the palms of my hands.

I took advantage of a night when Kagome was away and Miroku and Inuyasha left the village to fetch supplies.

We kept by the fire. He drew while I drank. I wondered how to act, I vacillated between doing it and not doing it, then I was graced by luck. All of a sudden Shippo crawled into my lap!

I offered the kitsune a sip of Sake. He refused but I insisted and he agreed. A second. A third. A fourth. The bottle was empty. He was not yet as drunk as I - that was not the object of my plot - nevertheless I noticed a playful and boisterous lack of inhibition.

Then the effect I intended!

He said he needed to go to the forest. I said it would be safer to stay by the fire. Nodding, he stood and sidestepped. I watched - I couldn't believe how simple it would be! - I trembled rapt by excitement. He loosened his kimono: with his right hand he clutched his hakama, with his left hand he dug within its folds. Just like that he exposed it and streamed a line of urine.

I gazed - I followed the stream from where it splattered to where it sourced. A tiny, pink head rimmed by skin. He didn't hold it, rather, he kept it atop his palm. It was just long enough that its tip poked past the edge of his pale, fat fingers.

It was magnificent! Perfect! Flawless!

I grasped it.

"Sango?" he asked but did not protest.

He was shocked but not scared.

He released it and I held it. I felt the water flow through its length and fill its tip. I squeezed it just enough to heighten that sensation. It felt like a small, little creature with a strange yet powerful life! For that moment, that instant, when I held that boy while he urinated, I felt that my own, inner masculine was _alive_.

I kissed it - droplets of urine wetting my lips - then I watched Shippo tuck it away. Then the normal way between us resumed untarnished. That bond we shared was sweet and natural and wholesome!

I couldn't hurt my boys! I couldn't hurt what I loved! Gods, I only wanted to be part of that uniquely male act. That object of my obsession.

**(1000)**


	21. Fire: Inuyasha, Do You Dream of

**"Fire: Inuyasha, Do You Dream of Cowboy and Indian Gayness?" by Abraxas (2008-09-27)**

Inuyasha was bored and, like any other dog left alone too long, the demon was determined to get into a heap of trouble. He pestered Kaede and Shippo while they gathered supplies - but the woman was stoic and the fox turned the table with a sneaky kind of trick. He bothered Miroku about his kink - but Sango interrupted with a slap which led toward passions of other, intimate flavors he was not comfortable watching. So, accepting the excitement of a sit, he stormed into Kagome's hut.

"Aha!" he announced - then - sulked. "Keh."

Alas, Kagome had not yet returned.

"What am I going to do? Damn it!" he cursed and shook a fist. "Gods - there's not a drop of entertainment."

He sat and waited. So bored and so, utterly, frustrated about it.

And then the demon noticed it -

"Aha! _The book bag_." Gleefully, teeth grinning like a madman, he sneaked into the corner of the room. There, there against a wall, a sack lay waiting - no - begging to be trifled with. "Heh heh heh!" he laughed gruffly.

Claws tore into a zipper. Fingers reached through the sack. Hands rummaged about its contents. The sound of objects mixing with objects was like a low, arrhythmic chime.

Suddenly he felt _something_ solid. Still smiling that smile he laughed through his grin. He grasped it. He brought it into view.

The smile evaporated as elation was replaced by confusion.

It was a book of the future. A picture adorned the cover. It was very, very prominent.

Inuyasha blinked trying to decipher what it could have meant. It seemed as if the picture was of two distinct men. But they were unlike any kind of man he knew. The man kneeling was naked except where covered by: a loincloth between his legs and a crown of feather atop his head. The man crouching was clothed with fashion rough yet similar to the style of the future he glimpsed while visiting Kagome's world.

The curious part of the pose - the part that took a while to fathom - was the connection between the men. Gazing tenderly, the kneeling man's hands were holding the crouching man's head against his chest. Defending relentlessly, the crouching man was holding onto the kneeling man's waist while aiming a weapon away toward the distance.

"Who are they? What are they? And why are they _touching_ like that?" he asked - aloud. "Hmmm, I'll ask Miroku, later."

Finished with the picture he gazed at the words.

"Reflections of a Pink Desert. I guess that would be the title."

Sitting against the wall, the light of day seeping through the window, Inuyasha thumbed the pages of the book.

He found a page of haikus and paused to read.

_By the heat of fire_

_Against the freeze of autumn_

_Your hand and my hand_

_Under moon and stars_

_Against the turn of seasons _

_We lean skin to skin_

He returned to the front of the book and again stared at the image of the men.

Another page. Another verse.

_My breath strokes your cheek_

_Your arms reach, grasp and tighten_

_And we feel alive_

_Is no love like ours_

_Secret and quiet and pure_

_We men of two worlds_

If it was not so then it was so now: Inuyasha's jaw dropped. Drool trickled onto already weathered pages. The words - _the words!_ - could not be used together that way. To form those thoughts! To form those images! Clearly the future was a crazy, mixed up place where words were devoid of their traditional past meanings. Otherwise -

But language itself was not the end of the problem. The breakdown of the haiku baffled as much as its content. The verse showed the author did not appreciate the beauty of the haiku. He was not a poet yet he knew enough to understand that those haikus should have been _better_. It was as if the author strung words together just to fill syllables without caring about the effect.

And, then, another verse recited aloud:

_Dewy against lips_

_The flower of manhood blooms_

_And spills desert seed_

The illustration along the verse awoke sensations that Inuyasha did not know existed.

Sitting, shocked, he did not notice Kagome's arrival - and the feel of the book slapping against his face.

He blinked slowly coming out of it.

"Inuyasha! I need that book for my gay studies class! Baka!" she scolded.

But Inuyasha did not budge.

"Kagome - I think I lost a piece of virginity…."

**(760)**


	22. Earth: Hojo, We Meet Your Wetspot Again

**"Earth: Hojo, We Meet Your Wetspot Again For The Last Time For The First Time" by Abraxas (2008-10-11)**

"I'd like to be normal," says Hojo - a train enthusiast - "yeah, well, the girl I wanted chose a dog instead of me so…."

And with those words start a journey into Tokyo's MetroLine only a few know about. A marvel of modernity turned into a universe of sick and twisted desire? You bet!

"Normal, dude, you're kidding! Look at me, I mean, you'd think I was normal?"

Indeed, this youth typifies the well-to-do of a generation. Above-average family. Above-average GPA. He's got the style of the would-be executive. Nothing warns of predator. Yet, all of what we take as fine and upstanding, provides anonymity to perpetrate 'one-stop-stands.'

"Look, it's about sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Male, female - everyone - we're consumed by sex. Sex and the thought of juices splattering. Men who want to bukake. Women who want to face-piss."

Shocked by the frankness of Hojo's imagination I realize the unthinkable is common within that world of shadow and darkness between commuters.

I ask (as I ask the rest) where the idea of rubbing against people originated.

"I remember when and where like it was yesterday!" He sits, arms crossed, legs spread. "I'd like to think it was a girl. Yeah, it was the first downtown stop. I was standing while people were coming and going. Minding my own business, you know, then a hand grabs my cock. Grabs and yanks and everything." He reenacts the incident grabbing and yanking and I cannot help noticing his growing obviously and unmistakably aroused. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, just like it knew what it was doing. Then, the crowd was gone and I was alone."

There were a lot of girls when the train stopped that day but Hojo was too shocked by the contact to notice who could have been the perpetrator. Nevertheless he - like the rest - does not care if it was male or female. He goes out of the way to say he is open to rubbing against 'the right kind of guy'.

"Since I read this book of gay-ass poems I got a thing for Cowboys and Indians. Loincloths! Jeans! Yeah!"

But rubbing against women is what drives Hojo day to day.

"I love rubbing against the girls. I stand there and get so god damned hard. Sometimes I want them to see how it is now, see? But I'm not into exhibitionism yet. But, yeah, I get all big and hard and that's the best way to rub. 'Cause if it's soft it's innocent. There's no mistaking hard. So, yeah, I rub it against their thighs when we walk out of the train and that's that. The thigh's the best 'cause they feel everything, you know."

Stay tuned for tomorrow's follow-up expose - part two of a five-part-series! Follow Hojo along a trip where he rubs against three women and gets arrested after he ejaculates and gets identified by a wetspot. Later we find three young girls who gang-molest the men of the Seven-Downtown Line.

**(500)**


	23. Water: Koga, Across Time and Space I Rap

**"Water: Koga, Across Time and Space I Rape You!" by Abraxas (2008-10-12)**

Inuyasha loved fighting with Kagome - it was that makeup sex!

Ah, what she didn't know! What she couldn't suspect! And who would have guessed the truth?

It wasn't the woman although he showered her body with his love. That's why it remained unthinkable. Licking, kissing, sniffing - if it wasn't about Kagome then what was Inuyasha's desire?

Kagome sensed the pattern - fight, exile, sex. Soon she instigated the fights just to feel that sex. Of course, there was that middle part of the game to deal with- when she stormed into Koga's pack - strangely, though, Inuyasha didn't mind. He seemed to _want it_ but she figured it was something about jealousy that drove the passion.

Oh, yes, Inuyasha didn't mind!

Because that was what he loved.

When he licked her cunt. When he kissed her hands and fingers. When he massaged her breasts. He wasn't making love to Kagome - he was making love to Koga! Those traces of the wolf that echoed across her body. That scent of man! Fresh all over, everywhere. Suggestions of his skin, his cock and balls, his sweat. That woman was just a go-between of a very twisted and sick kind of love!

He inhaled the aura of Koga and, thinking of pelts, he got instantly erect. She kissed it and he thought it was Koga's lips wetting his tip. She fondled it and he imagined it was Koga's grip stroking his length. He massaged the skin of her back and that thought he was where Koga had been drove him into climax!

"Wow!" Kagome gasped. "That was fast!"

But Inuyasha didn't hear and didn't care. He was too busy thinking about Koga. Laughing at yet another triumph. If only the wolf knew he was getting rapped across time and space!

**(300)**


	24. I Know What You Did In Wyoming, Hojo

**"I Know What You Did In Wyoming, Hojo Akitoki!" by Abraxas (2008-10-24)**

I feel the call and I know my time draws to its end. This Akitoki withers away little by little. I am half-consumed already now, now I am left a few, precious minutes.

I do not fear it!

I want it, I need it!

This marriage into a world beyond the grasp of man.

I was born Akitoki. My mother is Japanese; my father is American. My father married into my mother's family and assumed the surname Hojo. And, as much as possible, that Westerner assimilated into Japan. The conversion was such that my father deferred to my mother's sensibilities about everything regarding my education.

I was raised thus ignorant of my roots.

I learned only fragments of my father's past. He tried always to forget it. As if there were a secret – a regret? – that scarred his memory of America. He tried without fail to eradicate it – that urge within me to explore all of my heritage. Yet the silence only heightened the curiosity.

After college I conspired to explore Wyoming – the land of my father – against the wishes of my family I needed to know that part of the world.

My journey started at Seattle where I met a few of my mother's relations. There I learned a portion of my father's history. There, too, I rented a jeep and drove toward my father's land. I traveled the Trail of Oregon – what remained of it – along the way I met many cowboys and Indians. I learned about the struggles of the West we are not taught in school. I was moved by the histories of the people of that land and I wondered if that was a part of what shamed my father's memory.

The change started past the crest of the Rocky Mountains. It was at the outskirts of Yellowstone that I was taken by a pathetic kind of sight along the highway. A lone wolf, injured, left as if dead across the road. I feared it was dead and the sight of it awoke a sense I needed to act. That I could not leave it to die. I approached the creature with water and a first-aid-kit. Luckily, it was not mortal, it was a wound caused by a coil of barbed-wire that punctured a foot. I cleared the metal with pliers. All the while the wolf gazed with its wet blue eyes too exhausted to fight.

I tended its wound with a strap of bandage – I offered water and it lapped it.

I drove away, however, I noticed the wolf followed. To be sure it was not as fast as the jeep but it was keeping up. Afraid it would be injured again if it kept going – and, perhaps, without thinking of my own safety let alone the consequence I let the wolf aboard. It ambled into the back of the jeep and curled next to my belongings.

That day I reached my father's homestead. When he left he gave it to a neighboring Indian tribe. I was welcomed and allowed to camp near the site where the house used to be.

Amid ruins ravaged by time I saw the wolf retreat into the vastness of the land. I watched. Rapt in awe at the beauty. And jealous of the power to melt away into a world unbounded by the demands of humankind. Work. Taxes. War. Only that was freedom! I shed a tear as it dawned. What a price was paid for civilization. Until I glimpsed it I did not understand the totality of what I could not have – I feared – anymore.

So, alone, I sat by the fire and read a copy of the 'Reflections of a Pink Desert' that a Nez Perce shaman I met in Idaho gave me after we confessed the nature of our hearts. I was stunned by the customs of the people and again my mind was opened into worlds of freedom I did not know existed. Suddenly I regretted that I spent too much time away. How I wished to know all of it, to inhale, to infuse it into my own being.

I gazed at the fire and at the stars and though I did not speak it within my mind I shouted it. I wished then and there that I had not been born in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Then, as I put away the book, I was startled by a bear. Shocked, I did not know what to do. I sat, thinking the fire would be enough to keep it away, yet its intent with me was clear. It swatted the air and I looked away then, then it was attacked. The bear was assaulted by a mass of black fur and white teeth. The fight sounded as fierce as it looked.

Just as I got to my feet the bear retreated leaving only a wolf.

My wolf!

We embraced as much a man and wolf could be embraced.

Was I insane? Or – was I aware of something hidden and secret operating beneath the veil of Nature? Where came these feelings of kinship?

I slept under the stars with the wolf curled beside me. I drifted into and out of sleep noticing gradually a change surrounding the creature. It seemed to be losing its fur. Reshaping its body. At length it was clear. It was a man. A wolf man!

I wished if it were a dream that I would not wake!

It was a man and without doubt the most gorgeous and beautiful eyes ever gazed. No – I forced myself to believe it – my wildest, vivid imagination could not have conjured anything as perfect. It was not human. In Japan it would have been called ookami. What it was called by the tribe I did not know.

Again I found myself weeping to be so close to perfection!

The man spoke in a low, bass voice that retained the tone of music. As if the song of a bird could be reduced to words. It took a minute to realize I was hearing language.

I learned his name was Steel Fang.

"I know your family – I smell its blood within you – they were kind to us and we embraced. We are tribesmen you and I."

Our lips met as though such a thing were like a handshake. Arms wrapped around bodies. Hands explored what only the night cloaked.

I awoke with the taste of semen and the memory of mating –

That week I stopped calling my family. I stopped drinking well-water and lapped from the river. I stopped eating groceries and dined from scraps Steel Fang provided. Soon the jeep, the ruins, these things became vague and distant memories. My clothes, too, were disintegrating while Steel Fang and I explored the countryside.

At night my wolf and I explored the depths of our souls. It was my initiation back into a world my father tried to escape. He feared what Nature awoke within him yet I embraced those impulses!

I could not imagine I would be so close to another man. Just days ago the shaman was the first and only human who knew of my leaning. Now, sleeping naked arm in arm, gazing into the bluest, wettest eyes, feeling his body growing firm and erect within mine, I knew what it was to be alive!

"I don't want to leave," I begged. And he stopped my lips with a lick of the tongue. And I replied with a lick of my own.

It was then that I noticed –

I leave now I will not return. My body yearns for union with my lover and with Nature. By the gods I am grateful for each and every moment now that I am free!

**(1293)**


	25. Why Do I Rape Wolf Demon Cock?

**"Why Do I Want To Rape Wolf Demon Cock?" by Abraxas (2008-11-01)**

The flesh was so, so accessible. Who could have resisted it? There, between gorgeous chiseled legs! There, under cover of furs! It forced eyes to study its secret, hidden proportions.

Oh, just to reach into that and satisfy the curiosity!

Naraku crawled through the debris of the cavern. Koga was asleep by a fire within. The spider smirked, venom glinting, dripping, at that realization of triumph. He would have Koga's meat all to himself! He, alone, would have the power to molest that demon, to explore every way imaginable every detail exposed of that man-wolf's anatomy!

Even Naraku felt weak within the presence of Koga and it showed that night by the caution of the approach. Was it fear of getting caught? Or could it be that his body was failing, teetering at the verge of swooning, by being around that demon?

At length, Koga tossed and exposed his chest - a pool of drool and other assorted fluids formed beneath the spider - still asleep and still oblivious....

Naraku feared the demon was awake but the slumber continued and - by the gods what luck! - now that the wolf slept face-up, its legs spread, he realized he had been given the perfect angle!

Amid the firelight he gazed between the demon's legs and saw the contours of a scrotum - tight and ridged - its round, delicate jewels twitching with a pulse of its own. And, and. He froze at the sight of it! It was just the head of a penis, its slit masked by the rim of its foreskin, yet it was the most expertly sculpted, overtly erotic glans he discovered. Even Sesshoumaru was crippled and asymmetric compared to that kind of perfection.

Like a baby to a nipple so was Naraku to Koga suckling on the tip of the wolf's penis.

"Who are you, cowboy?" Koga asked. Waking he realized it was a dream. He was surprised he was not wet. "I shouldn't read Kagome's books. Whoah!"

He sat up - shocked - at the sight of a spider scampering into the forest leaving behind a trail of his own, warm semen!

**(350)**


	26. Do It With Your Tongue, Again, Hojo

"**Do It With Your Tongue, Again, Hojo Akitoki!" by Abraxas (2008-11-05)**

There was no beginning that could be remembered. It was - it just was - and perhaps it would be always. Slowly emerging into reality, evolving moment by moment. That vision! By the gods - that image! Whose features, overt and cloaked, stunned the mind with its beauty.

It seemed the universe was created by its existence. It could not be otherwise - what cruel and unjust torment that would be - a world without that, where that could not be touched or seen or enjoyed, such a world was unendurable! It would be pointless to be alive!

Eyes were drawn to its waist. Exposed, its skin tinted warm electric shades, its muscles cut by well-defined and deep lines, it ached to be ravaged. The body tensed and relaxed, its frame was lapped by the water of the lake, from breath to breath. The warmth of that skin, those muscles, smooth yet powerful, what agony to imagine savoring its texture!

Upward and upward eyes drifted.

From the stomach to the chest. Supple flat pectorals. Nipples the color of bark. The bulge of those muscles demanded to be squeezed. The teats of that flesh needed to be bitten. The impulses could not be denied! The torso had to be massaged, its features had to be explored by fingers eager for adventure while kips washed the frame of that body with kisses.

The fantasy was jolted when hands reached into the lake and scooped its water.

The palms, arched into cups, slapped the fluid onto the chest - it splattered like a spray of semen then it trickled along the contours of the muscles. The water, its virginity lost by the contact, left beads throughout the skin that resembled sweat. And it was not difficult to think it was the warm, salty dew exuded by a body thrusting to the rhythm of wild animal passion!

The hands repeated the rinse - now, though, the eyes wandered about the shape of the arms. Strong, hard arms! How many breaths were spent dreaming about such arms? Wishing to be wrapped and caressed by them. Feeling their muscles flex. Rubbing and groping their skin.

How many stories could be written about long cold nights warmed by the contact of such arms?

The body stood and exposed what the water concealed.

Eyes again stared with disbelief. Little by little the details broke through the haze of shock.

A tangle of short curly hair between thighs. It adorned the base of the penis. The tiny, soft organ lay as if asleep between the gonads of the sack; its foreskin covered its head like a blanket. The flesh between the legs was smooth yet rugged and colored like the nipples.

The penis stirred. Its length seemed to grow and shrink by spurts. Soon it expanded wider and longer. Gradually it pointed upward, twitching and jumping, until it was level to the lake. The foreskin, stretched by the very swollen head, retracted just enough to expose the glans. The organ, aroused awake into erection, trembled with a sharp and rapid pulse.

Oh, what pleasures could be unlocked by that expression of manhood! The mind was overwhelmed by fantasy. Thoughts of hands grasping that shaft, fingers stroking that flesh. Thoughts of what it felt like to be touching its glans oozing its juices while foreskin was rolling back and forth across its tip. An exotic mixture of smooth and rough textures - its each and every detail required lifetimes to contemplate!

But it was not enough just to imagine!

Eyes wanted to see that penis erupting!

Hands wanted to feel that tip squirting!

"Hojo?" that image asked - and the sound of its voice broke the spell. "You know you don't have to stare...you like it, what you see, don't you?"

Hojo gazed at the face of Koga - a sly, knowing smirk was painted across the wolf's face.

Without hesitation the man met the demon's lips with a kiss.

The wolf embraced the samurai's wet and naked body.

"Hmmm, I was going to ask if you wanted to help," said Koga as he raised the soap out of the lake. "You just keep staring like your raping me with your eyes!"

Hojo laughed while rubbing along Koga's chest wide lengthening circles that ended with his hands atop the demon's thighs - the wolf's other tail was twitching with delight.

"I want every part of you, all of you, everything! I want to hold you everywhere! My wolf! I can't get enough -"

Koga blushed and kissed Hojo.

"Then - then - can you wash me again, Hojo, with your tongue like last time, please, oh, please!" Koga begged. "It makes me feel like such a wolf!"

**(787)**


	27. Kagome, What Are You Doing Under Koga

**"Kagome, What Are You Doing Under Koga's Pelt?" by Abraxas (2008-11-18)**

It was so raw, so hot rubbing it with her palm. Wet, sticky, rough. The head was swollen and would not let the foreskin cover it. Thick, long, hard. The shaft twitched, almost jumping free of her grip, when she upped the rhythm of the stroke.

Koga's body trembled - gasp escaped lips, head thrashed back.

Kagome gazed at the face, contorted into grimace then felt that cock stiffen tightly.

"Yes! Yes!"

She felt squirts of cum wet her palm. She watched juices shoot through her fingers. He heaved and groaned with each and every wad then curled into her arms.

**(100)**


	28. What Is Wrong With You?

**"What Is Wrong With You?" by Abraxas (2008-11-30)**

"OK, so, how does it work?"

"Baka! Leave Kagome alone, Inuyasha!" grumbled Shippo.

Kagome chuckled, unconcerned and amused, while she set the turkey at the middle of the table. Souta followed with the potatoes and coleslaw. Mrs. Higurashi - as if struck by a fit of OCD - tweaked the placement of utensils and plates and cups and everything.

Inuyasha's smiled widened into a bizarre kind of grin as his eyes followed the steam off of the contours of the turkey. If he had been adorned with a tail it would be wagging. It did not matter that the food was _unique_ - the modern Japanese era was beyond understanding anyway - it was food, hot and fresh, a feast so bountiful he did not know where to begin....

A hand slapped Miroku's face - the monk, too, was intoxicated by another sort of bounty....

"Pervert!" Sango muttered.

"Er," Miroku stammered, "I was only helping you with that napkin."

"Baka! Keep your robe wrapped, Miroku!" scolded Shippo. Dwarfed by mounds of potatoes and coleslaw the fox glared. "This is a day to give thanks for all good things in life...."

Suddenly there came a knock at the door.

"I wonder who that could be?" Mrs. Higurashi asked while turning to face the passage. "Hm, I don't think my Master Onigumo will be making it this year."

Everyone - even Grandpa Higurashi - faced the woman and raised the eyebrow inquisitively.

Souta vanished into the hallway - the door opened, the chitter-chatter of talk - and when the boy returned it was with the company of four friends of Kagome.

"WTF?" Inuyasha's jaw dropped. "Who invited you?"

"Why, Hojo, glad to see you," Mrs. Higurashi said. "And - you brought friends?"

"Yes," started the youth. "Master Koga and I go back a long, long, long time. He, too, is a friend of Kagome. As are Hakakku and Ginta."

"Well, then, I'm pleased to see you all." Mrs. Higurashi bowed - the bows returned the gesture. "Souta, show the guests to the table."

Koga - then Inuyasha - sat with Kagome between them. Hojo remained with Souta. Hakakku and Ginta sat with Granpa Higurashi.

Once the food was served the group, led by Kagome, paused to give a word of thanks.

"...me, my family and friends, safe at home, that's what I've got to be thankful for," she concluded.

"Now...the story of the first real thanksgiving." Souta stood at the head of the table with a book atop his chest held by his arms. "So, once upon a time in America, there was this cowboy whose horse crashed, er, landed onto a great, big rock. He got captured by the witches of Salem. The leader of the Pilgrims jailed the cowboy because, er, he raised taxes on tea - but a gay Indian chief spared his life 'cause Pocahontas started to cry. Then the cowboy and the Indian rode off into the sunset and everyone was happy. Except maybe Pocahontas."

Souta opened the book - Koga and Inuyasha recognized the cover and grew somewhat nervous.

Strike that!

They grew _very_ nervous.

_"For your lips - my cowboy -  
those kisses, deep, deepening,  
showering me with your passion!  
_

_"For your arms - my Indian -  
those embraces, tight,  
tightening,ravaging me with your devotion!_

_"For bodies - our bodies -  
our flesh, tense, tensing,  
fulfilling us with our juices!_

_"Oh, god, for these things I am grateful!"_

Koga was flustered, sweating, fidgeting.

Inuyasha's face was broken by terror.

Miroku was stumped about the meaning of the poem while Sango raised a tired, aching eyebrow.

"Oh, that's OK, Souta, we get the point."

Hakakku and Ginta gazed and blinked....

"Er," Ginta raised a hand and said: "I'd like to say something about what I'm thankful for." Everyone turned to face the two beta wolves. "Well, I know people suspect and, well, yeah - we're tired of hiding. So, what the hell, Hakakku and I are homosexual loving boyfriends who are gay and everything." He wiped the sweat off of his brow hopping he used the proper modern language. "We, well, we have been this way for centuries and centuries. Oh, I can't remember what it was like before we met. I know every single morning we awaken with the satisfaction of orgasm - yeah, it can be a little messy, a lot messy, yeah, _a lot messy_, Hakakku and I - well, yeah, the sight of my mate exploding like that, everywhere, it's the most, most beautiful thing a wolf is privileged to see and I am so grateful and so thankful! Even the mess we always leave, heh heh heh, I love that too. Hakkie! I love that and everything about you and I don't care who knows it or what they think about it. Thank you."

Hakakku shed a tear.

Koga wolfed a glass of spirits while Inuyasha crumpled into a fetal-position. A kind of silence befell those seated at the table as the shock of the words and the images conjured by the words defiled what remained unshattered by Souta's taste of poetry. All of a sudden Miroku was about to speak yet Sango, with a slap, ended that.

Kagome twitched - thanksgiving was not supposed to be _that_ traumatizing! - and what was the fascination with that book of gay ass poems about anyway?

**(895)**


	29. You Can't Be Serious

**"You Can't Be Serious" by Abraxas (2008-12-06)**

The very like was not the same but he learned to live with limitation. A stern, indifferent tone mixed with the humiliation of admonishment. A feeling that he - that it - was not special. Those parts of the act could be replicated yet others were beyond substitution.

Kaede sighed - she gazed at Miroku as if he were a wild, undisciplined child.

The monk's heart skipped a beat at the excitement the miko's reaction elicited.

"Put that away, Houshi, it'll get cold."

The man smiled. The woman was so unfazed it was incredible. The effect of age, he surmised, recalling the memory of that old, old woman. That demoness with her claws she seemed to understand _everything _and was not alarmed by his body.

Of course, she was the instigator - but - while he wanted to recapture all of it he settled with the essentials of the act. The rest were details.

"Does it offend you?"

She shrugged.

The monk laughed while the miko sipped.

He took her hand and placed it atop his soft, limp cock. She sighed then, as if to say 'there there' to a boy, petted it with the tip of her fingers. Rough, long nails scraped flesh. He trembled at the memory of claws. She watched the cock unfurl, little by little, growing into erection.

"Just...scratch me...scratch me like an itch," Miroku begged through groans of pleasure.

Kaede grunted confused by the fascination.

"I'm an old, old woman," she said.

"Yes - my fondest memories are of old, old women," he confessed.

"Maybe you want to be alone?"

Miroku gazed to watch Kaede's hand weakly almost shyly stroke the length of this shaft with her nails. He bit his lip to keep from wailing a moan to alert the village. She tickled his glans, probing its folds of flesh, exploring its shape, its function. All the while the nails worked like claws like when the demoness played with it.

"No, you're doing fine, Miko." He kissed her cheek. "Keep doing that...like that."

Raw with the marks of nails, Miroku's penis wept tears of red mix with drops of white.

Fragments of a moment, shattered by the fading of memory, that was all that was left of his very first time with a woman. The re-enactment was imperfect. But Kaede was the closest substitute of that demoness and with time and practice (and sharp long nails) it could be better.

**(400)**


	30. Weird Story In F Major

**"Weird Story in F Major" by Abraxas (2008-12-09)**

I saw the gates and stopped to contemplate my obsession. What impelled it? Its origin? Its meaning? Wasn't I born _normal_ like every other human - or - could it be that at conception I was marked differently?

I'm a freak of nature and how ever it happened - why, ever, it happened - I can't change the fact that I'm wrong. I look at the world through eyes you can't fathom. The ugliness of the universe, what others revile and deny, I accept as a work of art worthy of study.

The world, all of it, from the galaxies to the droppings of birds, it is only a stream of ideas conjured by a mind - dreams whose entanglements reveal a grandeur our own puny species cannot grasp. Yes, I appreciate the unappreciable. The smell of vomit. Curled, dried piles of shit. Heaps of garbage, rotted and littered within alleys. These things you wish not to see, not to know, _these things_ are parts of creation.

So - although I don't believe it - I hope you understand why I don't revile that center of my obsession.

I do the best not to be caught. Indeed, how could it be explained? Impossible.

At best I would be ridiculed.

The house of the Higurashi was silent. I studied it. For years and years. I learned its workings. Its idiosyncrasies. This act of breaking in and out, it's so simple, I swear I'd always do it if it were possible.

Kagome's window was open but that happened every now and then.

What a twisted path to take to seek this kind of intimacy!

Yes, _intimacy_, that's the best way to think of it - like inhaling your lover's breath only different.

I suppose. It could be. I mean - although I don't know what triggered my obsession I recall a few certain memories of it. Well - of my mother and it. Growing up my mother and I were alone while my father worked. She took me everywhere even into the bathroom. I was forced to stand by the sinks while the women did the work of nature. I was a child and nobody noticed it. The women, if they cared, doted and complemented me, _'oh, what a cute little boy'_ they cooed pinching my cheeks and whatnot.

Meanwhile - oh, by the gods! - the things I was exposed to!

What I'd give to return to those days when I didn't have to hide to enjoy my entertainment.

I entered the bathroom by the kitchen. It's the easiest to use. Staying downstairs allows a discrete movement into and out of the house. Going upstairs risks getting caught and complicates a would-be emergency exit. Also that bathroom comes with a closet large enough to hide a man....

At that time of night _she's_ the only member of the family who uses it. It's not that I would be disgusted by the others - they would be beautiful too - but it's she, it's she alone, that draws me through the night-clad streets of Tokyo.

I called it intimate. It's a union of body to body. And I only yearn her, her body, her secret, hidden places!

I snuck into the closet and, behind a rack of towels, I waited. Soon. Soon. It would be the usual time of night....

Then, suddenly, I was jolted by flurry of activity. Walking then running. Downstairs. My heart raced. Was I discovered? The steps approached then entered the bathroom. Was I seen? I sweated, I gasped, I almost fainted. My worst, impossible fears were realized! And how was I going to explain it? I, Hojo, hiding in a close in a bathroom? Disgrace! My life with the wrongness of it flashed as the lights glowed. I raised my arms, twitching and shaking, a series of alibis forming within my mind.

Instead of destruction I found elation. I misjudged what happened. Clearly, she wasn't agitated by a burglar but by a fit of _diarrhea_!

Joy - oh, by the gods, the joy! Was I dead? Because what followed would have been my Nirvana!

Grunting - rough and animal grunting unlike a woman!

Tensing. Heaving. Groaning.

Wet, sloppy clumps of waste plopping into water.

Bursts of gas and _that smell!_

I exposed my cock, already stiff and drooling, and stroked while I imagined the visuals that accompanied what tantalized my other senses!

_Oh, Mrs. Higurashi, let it out, let it out!_

Mrs. Higurashi emptied and I stroked, hard and fast, driven by the experience of it. My obsession was that smell of shit. It was like the scents of flowers wafting through the air, from asshole to nose, and thus we were connected flesh to flesh by mere passing of gas.

I splattered my seed against the linen stroking and stroking until it hurt to touch!

The rest was daze. I was taken aback by the fury of my orgasm. It was matched only by Mrs. Higurashi's consternation!

Out of that high, which must have lasted many, many minutes, I was surprised to find the lights un-extinguished. I wondered if she was still there, still shitting. I peeked through the slits of the door but, no, the bathroom was empty.

I eked out of the closet.

She hadn't flushed!

And the smell was fresh - _wasabi_, I thought.

I inched toward the toilet. The seat, which was upright, was smeared by shit. Like a volcano erupted atop it. I wanted to look into the bowl and gaze at its promise of treasure. I saw a clump of white, long hair stuck to the rim of the bowl and just like that I lost my nerve....

I fled the temple.

I vow to return. Again and again. I will not stop. Eventually that event will happen again. Mrs. Higurashi, whose anal symphony of sound _and smell_ launch my fantasies, scratch the itch of vivid restroom memories, will not fail to please my obsession again. Yes, I know there will be another chance and, if I do not fail, I will peer into my bowl of destiny.

**(1000)**


	31. Air: Kiss Me With Those Cheeks, Sango!

**"Air: Kiss Me With Those Cheeks, Sango!" by Abraxas (2008-12-15)**

Clouds parted like a kimono loosening, falling - and the moon, revealed, shinned its fullness into the shack. Sango, asleep across the floor, was vivid enough to be lit by daybreak. Miroku, peeking through a partition, was not just interested with the woman.

"Oh, Sango, please," he begged, teeth clenched and lips curled.

Lurking within shadows, hidden by darkness, only the outlines of the monk were visible.

He gazed; his penis was tiny and curled atop his palm. He tugged his foreskin, thinking of ass, fantasizing again and again about its treasure of sensation, just the suggestions of what that night promised induced a very rigid erection....

And then - then - it came.

Gasping, drooling - the tugging melted into a steady kind of stroking.

A smell burst into the air of the shack then faded away.

"Sango," he moaned. "Sango!"

Yet sound of stroking overwhelmed that utterance.

Sango turned - a bump along the blanket revealed the location of the ass now closer and closer to Miroku.

A smell, again, mixed with a crackle - a kiss issued between cheeks.

"You like this, don't you, Sango?"

The monk stroked furiously - the scent of ass was sharper and nastier that night. He felt his tip swell with water. He felt his shaft tighten. Thinking about Sango's ass, about the feel of ass, the sight of ass, urged by the sound of its puckering, spurred by the perfume it exuded, Miroku reached that moment of inevitability.

He gushed fantasizing she too climaxed with fart after fart.

**(250)**


	32. Fire: I Am The Burning In Your Saddle

**"Fire: I Am the Burning in Your Saddle" by Abraxas (2008-12-25)**

I chase the Indian tonight. Like every other night. It's what we do. Our own little ceremony. Koga, sneaking into the camp. I, following into the wilderness.

It started years and years ago. He stole a horse. I chased. It was a thrill, that hunt, with us replaying the act of survival - prey to predator - with roles zigzagging, switching, as we penetrated into Indian territory. I failed but the pattern was established and, then, refined. Soon it was settled. The rendezvous were secret, hidden affairs. Unspoken of. Away from the world it was just two men sharing the struggle of Nature. Just him. Just me.

I wondered -

What did he want? What did I want? Did we need it? These trysts -

Though we didn't speak, didn't meet face-to-face, we shared a relationship. A bond was understood. And, so, I felt intimacy with the Indian that I couldn't sense with any other of my race.

One day he will be my captive again - like that night!

Strange that he didn't fight - was it part of the ceremony? - he sat, wrists and ankles tied, while I thought.

It was a cold, Wyoming night so I started a fire. We sat together, unafraid, as if it were nothing to be close like that. Sky blue eyes met my gaze. My arm brushed warm, smooth skin. Smiles. Sighs. Moments of awkwardness.

I captured the Indian but I didn't know what to do -

"Open it."

"Koga?"

"Open it."

I took the Indian's sack and spilt its content - trinkets, like leaves of autumn, splattered across the earth.

My attention was caught by a book. A well-read crumpled pulp, a kind I wasn't aware existed, it was a mix of pictures with dialogue. Clearly, by detail that couldn't be obscured, it was a product of East Asian industry.

Titled, 'Hedonism', it related the adventures of a human-demon spirit named, 'Inuyasha', and friends. And enemies. Toward the middle of the book Inuyasha was rummaging through Kagome's sack. He discovers a strange book of poetry. The cover of that book, revealed by a panel of art, showed it to be about cowboys and Indians.

"Us."

I shook.

"How can that be...you and me...us...how?"

What a curious sort of contrivance. Like a plot-device of a pulp, unexpected and sudden. Almost too good to be true.

Asking what it meant, I turned toward the Indian and discovered that situation by the fire was changed. He was free - fragments of rope collected about his feet - yet he didn't run away. Instead he jumped me and held me against the earth. Face to face. Lips to lips. His wetness mixed with my wetness. Hands then fingers explored bodies -

"We meet again - soon - "

"Wait, Koga," I pled. He turned back and smiled. Then, without a word, he melted into night.

All that remained of the encounter, outlasting my stained and ripped clothes and the taste of flesh, hot and forbidden, across my lips, was that book. With Inuyasha and his cowboys and Indians. I memorized its pages night after night enslaved by the memory it invokes. Oh, what we shared, our little ritual -

My Indian! How do we endure this torment? One always running. One always chasing. We know it will not be forever - _it cannot be forever - _this separation. Love beyond reach. Let us break this distance between us. Again. Let us climax, body next to body, as the stars and the moon watch above. Maybe...maybe tonight...these urges will be consummated....

**(600)**


	33. Earth: Do You See My Face When You Cum

**"Earth: Do You See My Face When You Cum?" by Abraxas (2009-01-09)**

Naraku wandered into the dungeon. Wide horizontal windows, along the fringes of the stonework, revealed glimpses of night. Torches along the walls shined light into the void and revealed a realm of skeletons and cobwebs. Rats darted into and out of the shadow. Cells yawned abysses of darkness. The demon walked through the passage taking note of those tiny little details. He was fond of the setting and its ambiance.

Few masters throughout Japan so enjoyed that side of their work.

A gate - rusty long bars - beyond it light did not penetrate.

He stopped and listened....

Though he could not see it he knew she was there, awake, watching and waiting. And scheming. But, he wondered scornfully, with a twisted, sick smile, what kind of plot cooked within that mind?

"Certainly," he seethed, "you know you cannot escape, Kagura, yet you insist."

A stir of shackles - a cascade of sharp, bitter clanging.

"It is you who will not escape, Naraku," a voice barked through that abyss, "and tonight I will be free."

The gate dissolved and the creature walked into the cell. He untied his obi and his kimono tumbled into a pile about his feet. He unfastened the knot of his fondushi - a long, ivory linen dangled like a tail between his legs his genitals exposed. Naked - and still smiling, still arrogant - he knelt in front of the sorceress.

Naraku sat at the edge of a circle carved into the floor. Urns, posted at regular, equal distances right and left sparked a dull blue flame. Slowly, gradually, the image of Kagura emerged out of the void. Against the wall, wrists and ankles shackled, the chains contorted her body into a weird and alien posture.

The sorceress glared at the demon as if her eyes were knives....

The restraints loosened then swung free.

Kagura stood in front of Naraku, clothed, with two fans - the first against her face, the second against her hips. The pose was exaggerated. Still, silent. She did not move even to blink until a breeze teased the flames of the urns.

Kagura started the dance. Since Naraku caught her - since her last attempt to be free - she had been forced to dance in front of the demon. As part of the punishment the movement was to be different each and every session. The creature wanted variety and proved to be easily upset by repetition. So she practiced the steps during the day and acted the fantasy during the night.

She fanned while strutting through between the urns. Walking then running then stopping. She gazed toward the distance, eyes unfocused, always toward the same exact spot only she knew of. When she stopped she turned toward the spider, the fans locked together like a mask, like a pair of lips, then, as if shaking with the wind, growing through the air, her face cracked through that veil, her hands drew back those fans into random, yoga-inspired poses.

Naraku groaned - although she did not acknowledge it within the performance she knew it was uttered through the agony of pleasure.

It was the signal to heighten the tension.

Kagura, striking a pose of triumph, reached upward, outward, as if to touch the sun, until her kimono parted and exposed her breasts.

The dance continued with her flesh bared.

She covered the left with a fan leaving the right free. He paused to gawk at the offering then resumed his stroking. She switched, rapidly, freed the right letting the left go. Not waiting as long as that she switched again, shuffling backward. She twirled about the urns, slapping the fans against her breasts - and loosening her obi. She stopped again and again shuffled toward Naraku - with both breasts covered then freed, the swinging of her arms flung off the rest of her kimono.

Her lips between her legs were cloaked by shadow yet the darkness revealed contours of a smile.

Shaved. Smooth yet puffed by excitement. A dew, sparkling with that dull blue light, seemed to coat the skin.

Naraku's head rolled side to side while yelps and moans issued of his lips. His legs straightened across that floor, with its circle of urns, forming a triangle, apexing with his genitals. His left hand behind his back supported his torso while his right hand upped the pace of the stroke.

With the demon distracted Kagura started to grow bold. As she manipulated the fans she brushed their tips against her flesh. Cutting the skin. Along her arms, her wrists, even her thighs. The cuts were like scratches - she had been sharpening the fans for days and days but their edges remained blunt - they itched and they bled. Applying the touch of the blade throughout the dance, however, deepened the wounds. And as she strutted about the chamber, exaggerating poses and movements, her dance served to widen the cuts.

The demon started to spasm and the sorceress knew it would not be long....

She started crumpled atop the floor. She raised an arm with a fan, twisting and turning as her limb limp appeared to grow out of her body. She pressed her face against her arm, looking away into the recess of the dungeon. She spread her legs, crouching. She arched her back, shivering. Like a flower growing out of the ground she arose. Fluttering backward. Waving randomly. She folded a fan back into a rigid, long shape and shoved it into her sex.

Gasping! Biting a lip to quell a tear! She rammed the fan into and out of her vagina. She shrieked - at last - unable to stifle the pain of the cutting. She spread her legs while riding the fan. She bucked her hips while slicing deeper and deeper into her flesh. Blood, masked by the lack of light into a color akin to water, smeared down the length of her fan, gushed the fingers of her hand, splattered against the ground....

The sight of what he thought was Kagura spurred into orgasm was too much. Naraku, breathlessly, shouted. His rhythm cracked as his body stammered. A wad of white flew through the void and hit the floor. Then another and another followed - an arc of semen could be seen momentarily.

Kagura slumped onto her knees exhausted by the lack of blood and tormented by pain - the lips of her sex dangled tendrils of flesh as if a monster chewed the flesh.

"Naraku!" she shouted. "You'll never be free of this! I promise you, monster, you'll never cum again without seeing this!"

The demon, exhausted by that volcanic ejaculation, gazed at the woman as if watching a vision....

Without hesitation Kagura folded that second fan. She jammed its tip into her cheek under he ear. Tearing. Crying. Shrieking. She forced the bluntness of that blade through the flesh until it reached the corner of her mouth. Then, again without hesitation, she repeated the torture at the other side of her face.

Naraku - those parts of the demon that retained the identity of a human - gasped horrified by the visage that appeared. Where there used to be a face there was now a grimace too hideous to be real. An elongated smile, complete with teeth, dripping with blood. He tried to cover his eyes but it was too late, too late, that image was burning into his brain. But it was not the sight of it that affected him it was the shock of it. He was not prepared to see it....

And then, with her last breath of life, Kagura stabbed the two fans deep into her neck - a fountain of blood ejaculated out of the wound - and she rushed and she fell atop of Naraku, dying face pressed to face in front of the monster.

**(1300)**


	34. Im Not Telling

"**I'm Not Telling!" by Abraxas (2009-01-14)**

Telephone…again….

Inuyasha sighed.

The demon read the Caller-ID.

"Again?" he muttered. Wasn't twice a day enough?

Another ring – he answered, cradling the receiver between ear and shoulder, without speaking.

The breathing was heavy….

It started that way; weeks and weeks ago when the pervert first called the demon it was just breathing. Breathing mixed with sounds of wet sloppy foreskin. He yelled at the idiot – it spurred that fury of stroking. He yelled, again, then shuddered, delighted, as the jackass yelped he was coming.

Inuyasha smirked –

Eventually the pervert talked….

"You make my cock so hard! Ah! Yell at me!" he begged, the sound of stroking loud and clear.

"You stupid fuck, jacking off over the telephone, is your cock so ugly or what?"

"Oh, oh, oh, god!"

"You a tiny mother fucker? Yeah, that's it! You got the nerve to call me two or three or four times a day and you can't make it grow for me? Is that teeny tiny thing the best you can do for me? Go fucking hang yourself, you fucking disgrace to cocks!"

"I'm coming, oh –"

By the yelps he uttered Inuyasha knew it was true.

The demon paused – for dramatic effect.

"You know," he started, curling the telephone line between his fingers, "I know who you are."

The pervert gasped but it was not ecstasy.

"I know who you are – but I'm not telling."

Inuyasha slammed the receiver and laughed maniacally.

"Another day, another dollar," he said.

**END**


	35. Water: You Need a Dose of Reality

**"Water: You Need A Dose Of Reality" by Abraxas (2008-01-24)**

Inuyasha was stirred by that sound. Awaking, dazed and confused, he was struck by its melody. It sounded almost like the voice of a flute. But it was not music and though it took a while to realize that fact soon its nature was clear....

The demon jump off of the tree and tiptoed about the campsite. There was Kagome, sleeping by the bicycle. There was Sango and Miroku, dreaming with Kirara between them snoring. Next to what used to be a campfire was a bundle of clothes about the size of a baby - resting still and silent.

Everything was fine, as far as Inuyasha sensed, everywhere about the surroundings.

"Still, what is _he_ up to?" Inuyasha mused.

An ear tweaked as it detected that sound.

Again, tiptoeing, the creature sneaked through the wilderness. Peaking behind trees. Eyeing through shrubs. Careful not to ruffle leaves. Crack twigs. Alert animals.

It came again and he stopped dead with a stiffed kind of gasp. He dropped and crawled within the grass. He reached a patch of earth where the sky above was unobstructed by the canopy of the forest - a wash of eerie, bluish starlight illuminated the scene. He paused, as silent as death, and peered through the foliage.

Inuyasha could not believe what he discovered. His heart skipped a beat at that visage. It looked like a ball of fur. Shadows and darkness melted its features, its details obscured. Where was the tail? Where was the head? Such as it was...the ball of fur kept rolling about the grass aimlessly yet vigorously. Every now and then it stopped and trembled - the sound, which was revealed to be a moaning, issued out of it at those moments.

Then it stopped rolling.

Then it appeared to unfold....

Inuyasha gasped and withdrew - yet - too curious to look away....

Yes, the tuff of fluff unfolded itself.... There was a head, with ears, eyes and muzzle. There were legs curiously they did not terminate with feet. And there was a tail, too, though it seemed to be pressed between its legs. The weird, canine-like creature was trembling, rocking gently left and right. Its front legs seemed to wrap under its head. Its back legs then humped.....

"Hm," Inuyasha mused - did he catch animals mating? There must have been _something_ under the fur. And then Inuyasha remembered. "I don't believe this! Oh, gods, I can't believe this...."

The demon stood and walked into the scene of the mating - _what was he doing, anyway,_ he wondered.

Suddenly a hand, a small, human-like hand, emerged through the tuft of fur - it gripped the base of the tail as the humping intensified....

It was at that moment, at that instant, that Inuyasha heard words wailed through that sound....

"Oh, daddy, daddy, don't stop it, I want it - daddy - I need it! Oh, explode inside of me - like you did when you lived!"

Horrified beyond imagination, Inuyasha scrambled away - it was too late, however, to be unscarred by the reality of it. As he turned, as he reached into the safety of the forest, out of the corner of the eye he gazed into that scene. He could have screamed but shock of it paralyzed his voice. When he saw what he saw there was no choice but to run....

Maybe it was the night. Light and dark playing their tricks with his mind. Or could it be a trick of Naraku's - no - he would have sensed the beast. Maybe it was just the idea of it. Its implications....

One way or another it could not be denied - the fur was humping while the fingers were clutching, then, the mating pair tumbled aside. The two creatures were split apart connected only by the organ of copulation. What he thought was an animal was, in fact, the hide of an animal, a fox-like animal! A flat, featureless hide adorned by a head. Its tail was penetrating between the exposed cheeks of its mate -

"Finish me, Daddy!" Shippo wailed as the head of hide, entirely and completely of its own volition, crawled onto the little kitsune's genitals!

**(700)**


	36. Stop It, Jaken

**"Stop It, Jaken!" by Abraxas (2009-01-27)**

Rin, overwhelmed by curiosity, needed to know....

The not-knowing. The mystery. It was too much!

Besides, she reasoned, she could not be blamed. Jaken was just bad at keeping a secret. He got way too defensive and angry and everything when she asked about that doorway inside of his chamber. Yes, it was, all of it, suspicious and she could not help but wonder....

Jaken. A strange, little demon. Rin thought about what he could be hiding but she drew a blank. He could not be hiding a family. Or a secret, double life. Or a hobby! What could it be?

Jaken - his life was about following Sesshoumaru. Obeying Sesshoumaru. Putting up with the abuse of Sesshoumaru. Yeah, Rin knew that pretty much was that frog's life. So it was not easy to imagine the demon doing anything out of the ordinary. And that only sharpened the thrill of curiosity!

She waited until the castle slept. Then she crawled as silent as possible. She understood how to be unnoticed among the company of demons so sneaking was not a problem.

Rin crossed Sesshoumaru's chamber and listened:

"Jaken, what do you do, argh? Stop it! Inappropriate - Jaken!"

It seemed Jaken tormented the dreams of the great dog demon - maybe he, too, wondered what the reptilian was up to?

Jaken's bedroom - Rin slid the panel slowly. Beyond it she found that futon was empty. And there was a light shining out of that unspeakable other doorway.

She smiled, heart racing with excitement, at the prospect that she would be knowing everything....

She approached on tiptoe careful not to creak the floor - and, within that breathless sort of quiet, she heard Jaken...squawking....

"Lord Sesshoumaru, what a sweet, long kiss! Oh - how do you know what to do? Oh, my Lord Sesshoumaru! Do you make love to me in your dreams, Lord Sesshoumaru? I can't imagine you would be that good with your tongue, Lord Sesshoumaru!"

Rin was baffled! Sesshoumaru was sleeping. And why was Jaken so excited? And what was going on in there?

She peeked into the antechamber. A lamp was lit above a pair of figures. The first was distant. The second was, clearly, Jaken.

"Lord Sesshouuuumaruuuu! Lord Seeeeshhhhoooouuuumaru! Lord Seshouuuummmmaaaaru!"

Why was Jaken dancing? Like that! What was wrong his legs? And his knees? And why did it sound like he was crying? Rin was so confused!

And then confusion turned to shock as Jaken yelped he was coming. The two, interlocked figures twisted and Rin saw that the other, little creature was a weird, crude doll of Lord Sesshoumaru! It was as tall as the frog otherwise the rest of the features were identical.

Jaken squeezed the doll tight while shaking. And the head of it, complete with silvery long hair, purple, moon-like markings and electric eye-dots, it fell and tumbled toward Rin. It stopped face up at Rin's feet and she stifled a gasp seeing the horrible wide-mouth grimace smeared by white....

**(500)**


	37. The Wolf In The Iron Pelt

**"The Wolf In The Iron Pelt" by Abraxas (2009-02-04)**

Kagome watched the wicked, evil step-hanyou laugh at the prisoner.

"Koga," the demon mocked, "with Totosai's Iron Pelt around those hips you'll never take my Kagome's virginity - and you'll never escape -"

The wolf growled.

Inuyasha exited unaware of Kagome's intrusion.

When it was safe the girl approached the wolf....

The prisoner snarled - wet, blue eyes gazed menacingly. The human grinned - hood, red blooded felt, withdrew silently.

Kagome stroked Koga's cheek and the shackles went limp.

"You poor, poor, thing," she whispered into his ear. "Aren't you cold?" He was naked excluding that Iron Pelt. She stroked his chest. "Goosebumps!" He bit his lip. "Aren't you hurt? You look pained, Koga...."

He gasped: "It's - it's frustration....."

She asked: "Oh, what's the matter, Koga?"

"I want to fuck you now - god, oh, god - I want to face fuck you and tit fuck you and cunt fuck you! I want to fuck you _everywhere!_ Kagome!"

"You dirty, dirty wolf." She kissed his ear as punctuation. "Saying things like that to a fifteen year old girl!" She dropped a hand onto the waist of the Iron Pelt. "So, what's happening inside that I shouldn't see?"

Koga groaned, torso heaving, arms struggling -

Kagome could not remove the Iron Pelt. It was too tight to budge! Instead she peeked into it.

The girl saw the wolf's cock and glimpses of its tight, ridged sack.

"Oh, Koga, I always wanted to know what you looked like." She giggled and, again, kissed his ear. Cheek. Lips. "It's so different. I want to touch it. Do you want me to touch it?"

The prisoner howled.

"It's changing - it's twitching and growing - why is it doing that, Koga?"

"'Cause you fucking excite me, bitch!"

She blushed.

"I do? Why?"

"'Cause you're watching me -"

She hugged and he tried and failed.

"It's pointing up -"

"You get me so fucking hard -"

"Just looking at it?" Sweating, he nodded. "What if I played with it?"

"That's what I'm thinking about," he said, smiling while puffing and huffing inside her embrace.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"About you holding my cock and sack," he spat. "Squeezing my tip. Rubbing my shaft. You kissing my tip." She massaged his nipples. He thrust his hips. The sound of the Iron Pelt humping Kagome's leg filled the cell. "I think about fucking you, bitch, fucking you and exploding inside of you!"

She peeked into the Iron Pelt and he stopped -

"A purple little tip - it's poking out of its skin - what is it?"

"My cockhead -"

"I'd love to kiss it - if you really, really wanted that."

"Yes, Kagome, oh, ah," he yelped, fighting against the restraints. "So fucking sweet, Kagome!"

"Can you howl when you take me?"

He bit his lip almost crying.

"Yes. I'll howl and cry and explode fucking you. Kagome! Bitch - I want to fuck you now everywhere -"

She tried, again, to reach into the Iron Pelt.

"What does it feel like?" she asked, her fingers fluttering atop his cock.

"So good," he panted. "So _fucking_ good!"

"I mean - what does it feel like - your cockhead."

"You'll know soon, bitch, just keep doing it."

"What?"

"Playing with me!"

"I love playing you, silly, you're so rough! I bet you'll feel rough. It looks like you will." He was thrashing and squirming while she was talking. And she noticed his tip glistened with dew. "Koga, why is it crying? Is it excited too?"

"'Cause I'm going to cum!" he struggled against the chains. His muscles bulged. "I'm going to cum!"

"Show me - show me how you cum, Koga - let me see it!"

"Keep watching - don't stop, please - I've got such a big fucking load, Kagome!" He wept fighting against the chain and the frustration building into a climax between his legs. "I'm cuming, I'm cu -" his voice broken into a fragments of words and yelps -

"Oh my god, wow, Koga!" The girl gasped watching the wolf going through the torture of reaching that point of inevitability. Shaking and gasping his body tensing like crazy.

Suddenly the chains snapped and while she gazed, transfixed by the sight of his wad shooting out of his tip, he ripped off the Iron Pelt. Exposed, she grasped his cock, he clasped his hands over her grip. Together they stroked the length of his shaft and milked its last drops of cum.

"That was so fucking awesome!" Exhausted and dizzy he almost fell into her arms. "Kagome - you really worked it -"

She blushed, still stunned by the display, she confessed: "Well, I think about you, too, Koga."

"My bitch Kagome," he laughed. "Let's go before twinkle-toes comes back!"

**(800)**


	38. Don't Be Sniffing That

**"Don't Be Sniffing That!" by Abraxas (2009-02-13)**

A hand clutched a sword. Off of its stand - the setting collapsing by the violence - and flung aside, it crashed against the floor with a sharp metallic yelp. It stopped its slide at the futon. At last, degraded, it remained impotent and lifeless.

"Accursed fate!" the master of the house seethed with agitation unmasked.

Lord Sesshoumaru wiped his lips with his sleeve, glaring into the void of onyx enveloping the night beyond the window.

Where was justice? He was the legitimate son of Inu no Taisho! He - he - he was a complete demon! And to be disgraced like that? By elevating the spawn of betrayal above the offspring of marriage?

The monster's hatred was boundless....

He slithered out of his armor, letting the cover collapse onto the floor. He yanked away his pelt, whipping it across the air. If he could have torn asunder the bonds of blood he would have too.

There would be no end to it. Everybody knew of the fallen dog-lord's swords. The one that slew a hundred demons at a blow. And the one that resurrected a hundred demons with a swipe. They feared the first. But they mocked the second. What was the point of it? Such a useless toy. Unworthy of a warrior. To be burdened with that weakness was akin to being castrated!

And to think....to imagine...to know a hanyou was entrusted with the power....

Lord Sesshoumaru could not understand the idiocy of his father's state of mind. What, exactly, went wrong? Was he not dutiful enough? Not respectful enough? He was always there, there at his father's side, defending him at each and every turn. Where, exactly, was the failure?

He saw the weapon. A useless, dull sword -

It seemed like a waste of energy to unfurl such hate against an object -

He grasped the sword and brought its length up to his eyes -

But it was not just an object - at last, yes, at last his anger found an avenue of expression!

If father so disgraced son, the favor could be returned.

He unsheathed the sword and gazed at its form under the light of the moon and the stars. Its weathered, dull blade. Cracked. As if fractured. There was no trace of anything like the fang it was forged out of yet it was true. It was the only part of his father that survived.

"Let me show you my gratitude."

A smile that could have frozen blood flashed across his face.

Obi. Then kimono. Then loincloth. The futon was littered with his sloppy, discarded articles.

Naked, Lord Sesshoumaru crawled atop the mattress. With his head veiled by the night and his ass light by the sky, he straddled the weapon. He lowered his genitals onto the hilt to accustom his body to its icy cold nature. He grasped the handle. He slid his fingers across its length. Holding it by the center he pressed its tip into his anus. Dull as it was still it was angled such to allow penetration.

Inch by inch the sword was swallowed by his anus until only the hilt remained out of his body.

Laughing, maniacally, at the abuse of the sword - of his father! - he stroked it in and out. Pressing it again and again against his internal centers of pleasure. Already he was hard and leaving a steady trickle of juices. The sensation of is length rubbing into the root of his penis induced a rush of white, hot fluid. It did not squirt as orgasm only bursting like a rush of urine.

A pool of it formed between his legs - he reached into it to feel is warmth -  
"How do you like it, now, father!"

He moaned, biting a lip to stifle a gasp. Tears rolled out of his eyes. He was thrusting his hips while stroking the weapon into and out of his anus. The urge to climax was growing steadily threatening to rush like avalanche!

"Oh, god, I should have fucked you a long time ago - how do you like it, now, father? How do you like getting fucked?" Overwhelmed by pleasure and hatred his tone of voice degenerated into common street talk like what he imagined a filthy, human prostitute would have uttered in the heat of passion. He smiled, wickedly, at the thought of it. "Fuck me, father, doesn't that excite you? Hearing me talk like your whore?"

And then, as if to reply, he noticed the sword...seemed to change! Feeling its handle again he sensed the weapon gained mass. Shrugging it off to the effect of the pleasure, he started to stroke. But now even the motion within his body attained a new and different character. No longer the sensation of something rough and dull, it was slicing much, much too cleanly.

He was shocked by a surge in the fluid draining out of his tip. He dipped a finger into the pool and brought it up to his eyes. He sniffed the odor of blood mixed with semen.

"Impossible!" he shouted. "What is going? I am the master - I take vengeance - not you!"

With one, final stroke he yanked the sword out of his body then fell aback onto the mattress dazed, confused - and horrified!

Indeed it could not be denied - the sword changed! No longer dull, it cut the air with a sound that reflected its razor sharp edge. No longer dead, it vibrated within his grip, almost flying out of his hand, flaunting its power - its life!

Gazing into its visage, like a moth transfixed by fire, he was overwhelmed by the transformation. Longer, wider, even the tuft of fur at its base thickened. And it curved with the slope of a fang.

His heart skipped a beat. He gasped. Almost screamed.

He flung it away, as if to erase the very idea of it - his father's tooth crying tears of blood!

** (1000) **


	39. Air: Kagome, I Only Shower Your Face Wi

**"Air: Kagome, I Only Shower Your Face With My Love!" by Abraxas (2009-02-21)**

My gift, like my tears, fall to wet the face of my woman. She glistens under the light of the stars and the moon as a flower shimmers by its wetness of a cool, spring dew. Though afar, branches and branches swaying between us, against the shadows and darkness of the night, I behold the sight of it and sigh content.

Do you suspect? Do you know?

How I think about your chest heaving, gasping beneath the heat of my body. Your skin and my skin touching, naked, exploring, unashamed. Kissing. Licking. Biting. You crying my name. I plunging into depths uncharted. Your body shivering, my body exploding, the echoes of this passion surging through those places where we tumble interlocked legs within legs.

Oh, Kagome, how I think about those secret forbidden things I want to do....

Every night, alone, with my thoughts, the images unfolding warming me despite the season. While you sleep unaware of it I live a virtual other life. You cannot be a part of this, my amusement, there must be a distance always. I want to enjoy you the way I imagine you could be. Free of those estrangements that disturb harmony. Reality is too dirty a thing to compete with fantasy.

But can you not tell? Are you not aware? Of these things I do! Surely, the evidence is with you, morning after morning.

Perhaps you accept my gift and appreciate its sincerity....

Yes, I believe it would be taken as compliment that your beauty could be such a torment - it is against the nature of the world that a demon should be haunted by a human!

The wetness of a tear stains the back of my hand. My body aches to be near you again. A surge of excitement mixes with agony. I stifle the cry of pain against whose sting I struggle. Clenched eyes. Bit lips. Legs twitching threatening to give way. And drop by drop the wish of my body is granted.

"Kagome," I gasp.

I hear my gift splatter - I know I will be near you again.

**(350)**


	40. Fire: Welcome To My Happy Happy Fun Time

**"Fire: Welcome To My Happy Happy Fun Time Pants" by Abraxas (2009-02-27)**

The only light inside the teepee was the glow of a fire. A tiny pile of rocks and litter. It did not add to the sultry warmth of summer oozing into the structure.

The captive, whose features were masked by shadow and darkness, shivered despite that heat - and the ropes that bound hands and feet together.

The entrance flapped - a breeze stirred the flames - a new and different figure enshadowed the interior of the teepee. The captive looked up. The figure looked down. Eyes locked then turned askew.

Upright. Still. The Indian's head was just under the slope of the tent. A crown of feathers, a rainbow of shades, white to black, adorned his brow. Rows of paint framed his face. Beads like armor dangled atop a shirt. A long, dark loincloth tucked between leggings.

The cowboy shuddered at the sight of the captor and knew the situation would be grave - it was the much whispered-about and little known White Shirt!

Again the Indian's intense blue eyes were transfixed onto the cowboy's deep brown gaze.

Then he raised his arms and unfastened the crown of feathers. That exposed a head of shiny, black hair twisted into a single long braid. It uncurled into a length that rivaled the height of the figure.

The captive gulped, awestruck, the beauty of the captor was like something out of fantasy.

"Hm, wow, if I knew I would be captured by a god," he mused, aloud, with a weird, lisp-like accent, "I should have paid you a visit sooner -"

"What? A visit? Is that what you call it - harassing us chasing us through this territory like that, Flaps With Butterflies, like you own the land?" The irate Indian wagged a finger as the smirking cowboy. "Flaps With Butterflies. You're crazy - and you're going down."

"Hm," he groaned, biting a lip. "I'll go down, up, sideways, whatever for you, White Shirt!" he exclaimed, licking a lip like he meant it. "Let me tell you something - gods - you get so sexy when you get so mad! So...I'm getting away and I'm taking that hair too!"

White Shirt grasped his braid and looked, eyebrow-raised, at the man he knew only as Flaps With Butterflies.

He approached, cautiously then anxiously, and stopped at arm's length. The Indian tipped off the cowboy's hat - curled black locks were freed and tumbled onto the sides of the face. He stroked the hair. He touched the cheeks beneath the strands. He noticed the gasp escape the lips and the shudder overtake the body.

"Something about those eyes," the captor mused, aloud. "Those lips! They could be put to a very good use."

The captive blushed and tried to fight off the Indian meekly. "I can think of a few uses too. Hm, and your lips, and your hands, gods, all of your face." He moaned, again, biting a lip. "Punish me, White Shirt, I was a bad cowboy...."

The beadwork tumbled. The shirt crumpled into a pile. A vision, lit by fire, of well-defined and flexed muscles forced eyes to follow its every last contour. Without any kind of notice the leggings vanished. Only the loincloth remained - tenting and sagging....

"Oh, gods, White Shirt, make me pay for my crimes!"

The Indian, naked but for a thin slice of fabric, knelt at the level of the eye with the cowboy.

They pressed their lips together. There was no struggle to resist the act of intimacy. The only violence was that of the sparing of their tongues as they vied to gain a bit of the other's territory. And that challenge continued until they broke away breathlessly.

"You take and take and take," White Shirt scolded, "and what do you give?"

"Everything," Flaps With Butterflies gasped, tears streaming his cheeks overwhelmed by the ecstasy of the kiss. "I give you me, White Shirt! Oh, yell at me! Curse at me! I want to beg your mercy.... I want that hair wrapped all over me, all over me, damn it!"

A blanket of fur was unfurled across the bottom of the teepee. The captive, untied and naked, lay atop it. The cowboy's legs and arms spread wide, apart. The Indian knelt in front of the other man's offerings. The captor, smiling, crawling, was face to face with the man. Another kiss engaged their lips.

"I donno what you get out of it, Jakotsu," Bankotsu said, "your role play game is so hot."

Jakotsu reached into Bankotsu's loincloth and fumbled with the equipment. "Yeah, wow, that book was awesome wasn't it? Now, shut up - and punish me - White Shirt!"

**(777)**


	41. Earth: The Void Between Your Legs

**"Earth: The Void Between Your Legs - I Bleed For You, Suikotsu!" by Abraxas (2009-03-07)**

I didn't know _this_ was possible. I only wanted a little fun. Really. When I provoked the trigger I thought the chains couldn't withstand the insanity. I would have been in trouble yet it would have been worth it.

I didn't know what was going to emerge....

I strip. I crawl into that realm allowed by the chains. I feel sniffing. Long, jagged fingernails probe my flesh. Soon I hear a growl at the back of my neck. Then a violent, rigid tool invades my body.

As the writhing and biting - and bleeding - follow I gush with bliss.

"Inuyasha, Inuyasha, Inuyasha!" I sob as I fill with warmth.

Bankotsu called again - no, I don't know where Suikotsu is.

And I swear it is true.

The group, this band of brothers, is a tight-knit bunch. But we lose track between jobs. No body noticed the loss until he missed too many of Bankotsu's meetings. Then Renkotsu found his house was empty. Mukotsu and Kyoukotsu aked his patients who didn't know where the doctor left.

Night and I walk around the field just to know I am not watched. Bankotsu doesn't suspect yet I caught Mukotsu and Kyoukotsu and even Renkotsu poking about my house. Let them gawk at my shack! Of course I wouldn't be that stupid.

Cloaked by shadow and darkness I trail into the forest. At a hillside I find the slit-like entrance. The stale, hot air of a cave oozed out of it. Within its folds I light a lamp, at last, and trod across a pile of rubbish. The tell-tale rattle of my treasure echoes out of the void beyond. And I know by its fury that it will be a very passionate night!

My scars already bleed at the promise of it....

Curses. It torments me that I cannot tell them. I see their pain in their eyes yet I cannot say the word. Suikotsu is gone. He will not return because I need this -

I am enslaved by this. This, all of this. Everything I do in the privacy of my life is about pursuing this obsession.

I clip the lamp on a chain and let it swing.

At the back of the cavern a figure comes in and out of focus.

The monster lunges and only the chains keep it off of me.

I smile - oh, by the gods, the glare of those eyes let me know I am hated tonight!

A slab of meat, wet with blood, hits the ground. Red splatters its jagged shape. It is pounced. Hands, fingers tear into it. A face chews into it. It gazes, again, turning its face to me, its cheeks smeared by blood - and I almost faint with delight.

Yes, Suikotsu is gone and I don't want him to return. This, creature, that I train like a dog is so much more raw than Suikotsu's usual murderous personality. This - animal - that I discovered by accident is so much more willing too!

**(500)**


	42. I Want You Forever

**"I Want You Forever" by Abraxas (2009-02-22)**

When it happened it seemed to come out of nowhere. Like a bolt of lightning. Unexpected. Shocking. And its passing left me weak as if drained by exhaustion.

This reaction, a mix of fear and excitement, overwhelms my body. I cannot believe it. I cannot help that I cannot believe it. Can you understand that? You can understand that! It is so new and different, so sudden without cause, so beyond what either you or I suspected of each other's character. You knew, already, this moment of uncertainty would be happening.

My heart races while my feet threaten to fail. I reach your hand and you allow my fingers to wrap between your fingers. Touch by touch - breath by breath - I realize the reality of the moment. It happened. For whatever reason. It happened.

I did not image this sort of thing, the echo of which lingers, still, within the realm of my senses.

You did it - I cannot forget that you did it - and by the smirk across your face I know you know....

We remain, hand in hand, silent without a trace of awkwardness beyond the uncertainty of what we were to do next. It is my first time and, I suspect, your first time. We need a moment to gather thoughts.

This, this thing that could be between us, is alien. Yet I cannot deny that I am aroused by the possibility. Until that moment, that instant, I was unaware of the power your beauty. Now, that I see you and these unknown dimensions of you, I am swept by your eyes - watery, azure radiance - by your face - ageless despite centuries - by your skin - exposed everywhere warm, smooth and flawless - the objects of my usual taste cannot compete with the perfection of your feature.

And it is, perhaps, the forbidden nature of this kind of relationship that adds spice to our mutual and insatiable appetites.

I press my hand against your face just to trace the shape of your eyes - then to brush aside the locks that tease your brow. You hold my other, free hand and tug my side into your side. We come together, your body and my body, we find a sliver of paradise within the embrace of our arms around our waists. Embracing. Grinding. Binding as if melting into a single being.

It cannot be denied - the reality of that spark of intimacy and what continues to develop. As our cheeks rub together, I wish to be with you everywhere. As our hands explore what garments allow, I suspect your wish is my wish too. And by the shaking hesitating of your touch you display your own nervousness....

I am spurred by your display of vulnerability. I grasp you tight. I clasp your hand, your fingers, and squeeze to assure that you should not fear any kind of rejection.

"Do it, please, do it," you beg through a crisp yet gruff voice. "What you do," you explain to my confusion, "what you love to do - I will not slap away your complement...."

At length, as I realize what you crave, as it sinks into my thought, I cannot resist it and that you smile then blush then utter a short, excited yelp reveals that you want more and, eagerly, I give you more. More roaming. More exploring - patting, grasping - those cheeks of yours beneath those furs.

By the gods, what other treasures remain hidden by your pelts?

"Kiss me, again, Koga!" I struggle to speak - and as I finish, already, your lips ravage my lips. Your tongue wets my face. As I seek your most vulnerable, sensitive features, as I massage you where you howl by my slightest touch, I know then and there that I want you forever.

**(650)**


	43. Water: Punish Me, White Shirt

**"Water: Punish Me, White Shirt, I Was A Bad Shipper!" by Abraxas (2009-03-18)**

Oh, Lord Sesshoumaru, to be kissed by you!

I go mad without this fantasy realized - nights restless while my mind, and my hands, wander. I tremble imagining you uncovering and judging my lips. Do you see how they swell, how they drool, anticipating? And your face breaking into my world with your tongue. I shudder like a butterfly within your palms and you know I cannot escape the flood of rapture that follows this act. This kiss....

Oh, Lord Sesshoumaru, forget my age and grow bold enough to plunge into my lips - I am yours from my first breath forever!

**(100)**


	44. My Life As A Dog Demon

**"My Life As A Dog Demon's Vagina" by Abraxas (2009-03-28)**

Sesshoumaru did not understand it but it was not his business to understand it.

His mother - how was he supposed to embarrass his mother like that? After that humiliation perpetrated by his father. After the shunning, the isolation that followed. Imagine it, a demon to be second to a human. Such a betrayal! How was he supposed to go to her and ask her about it?

A subject as brutal as that - how, even, to bring it up given the subtle nature of their relationship?

Oh, poor, poor little pup! Heart pounding with terror. Palms sweating at the horror of the reality he was cursed to endure. It, that unspeakable and unnatural entertainment his mother engaged with that he saw perpetrated with his very own eyes. His fragile, child-like mind was overwhelmed by the totality of it.

It was night. A storm raged throughout Japan. And the whole, entire castle was as abysmal as a tomb could be. The wind stirred the windows. The rain splattered the glass. As the torrent raged the thunder rattled and the lightning flashed the sanctuary of the nursery.

Sesshoumaru, too upset by the violence of nature, could not sleep. Each and every facet of that storm evoked a reaction of fear. The cover of the blanket did not offer a promise of safety. At length he could not remain abed.

He crawled across the passage, toward the lamplight that seeped through the edges of a doorway - he peeked through the cracks of the matrimonial bed room.

Warped by that unsettled state of mind, disturbed by those shocks of thunder and lightning, given only a vision ravaged by time - was it possible to be certain of it? Was it real what he thought he saw? Or was it not the imagination of a child tortured by nightmare?

A fear infused into his soul since his father fractured his family.

He could not believe it yet it fit into the character of his mother. What was a human to a demon anyway? And, when he considered what she suffered due to the interference of a being so inferior, it seemed to be obvious that she would have channeled her ire against all of that womanly kind. But what kind of a use of a human was that?

Certainly...something beyond emotive pangs of hate was expressed by that act!

Sesshoumaru recalled a day he had been late to dinner. He arrived at the castle with a stem of chrysanthemum. Of course his mother saw the flower. He presented it not as a gift but as a trinket to be examined between son and mother.

She brought it into her face and examined it so closely enough to probe its atoms.

"You're so much your father's son," she said - her icy cold syllables did not betray a sliver of emotion.

"No, mother, I will not leave you," he staggered to speak - his eye welled then shed a tear. Why? How? To make a comparison like that! "I've always been loyal to you!" he shouted.

She raised an eyebrow.

"I will not fail you...."

The flower, crushed within her palm, tumbled petal by petal onto the floor.

How total was his father's betrayal that now he too was tainted in his own mother's eyes? He could not bear with it. It was like a storm brewing inside of him. Night after night it kept him awake thinking about how to avenge the world and redeem himself to his mother.

It was in the middle of a long and lonely night that the universe coughed up the proof of what he dined.

His room was kept at the end of the corridor that connected the family wing of the castle. Yet the sound of what happened inside of his mother's chamber reverberated as if his ear were pressed against its doorway. The rumble of furniture jostling was mixed with a silence blanketing the moments between moments. A sound of something soft and rhythmic. He could not indentify it beyond a sort of breathing and he did not dare to investigate it further. Every so often there was a muffled cry. Which he always assumed came out of his mother's lips. The sessions ended with the clatter of what could have been a sack dropping onto a floor. Then the doorway burst. Then she fled out of the castle.

It was part of a ritual practiced each and every full moon without fail.

Sesshoumaru crawled out of bed and inch by inch he approached the doorway, cracking it ajar enough to let his eyes gazed into the void beyond. He saw the portal of his mother's chamber yawning wide open. Violently open! Certain she was not at the castle he continued his trek across the length of the hallway. Nervous, anticipating a disaster, yet, he summoned the strength to poke his head into what used to be the bedroom shared by his parents.

It did not seem as if anything was wrong. The mattress was untouched. The furniture was undisturbed. What happened? What could have happened?

Perhaps a little too overconfident with the idea he was alone and would not be caught he actually stepped into the chamber.

Again nothing seemed to be wrong until he was about the center of the room and his feet felt wet -

He stopped to look and gasped at the sight of himself standing atop a pool of his mother's blood.

Sesshoumaru almost fainted but it was too late to be caught by weakness. Quickly he fetched a pail of water and quickly he started to clean the blood off of the wood. He was so shocked by the situation and so concentrated with the task of eviscerating the evidence that he did not notice the onset of true fear....

A hand grasped his shoulder - a shriek passed his lips as he gazed at his mother - she was naked and the part that froze his blood was that she was not mad.

When Lord Sesshoumaru awoke beneath the cloak of the blanket, he was met with a kiss. It was his thirteenth birthday and that contact sufficed as gift. And as warning.

After that night's incident with the blood and that morning's kiss, the relationship between son and mother gained a new dimension. The fear was there, it could not be denied, as long as that wretched offspring of his father's mistress lived that slight against his mother tainted her and by extension scarred him. To placate his mother and abate the furry he feared could have erupted at any provocation, at any moment, he not only suffered with his mother he took the role of loyalty along roads as unnamable as those pastimes he now knew his mother engaged in.

He was thirteen and with his father's death he assumed the role of the head of the family and as such it was his duty to provide.....

Lord Sesshoumaru commissioned Totosai to build an array of traps. The cages were just large enough to ensnare the targets without killing. That was so, so very important - and a point that raised the interest of the old cranky blacksmith.

"They are pests," he said, "I want to spare my mother the sight of blood."

It would have been impossible to reveal the truth despite Totosai's history with the family.

The traps were buried - their lids, which split into two with the pressure of weight, were covered with leaves and such to render it invisible in the void of night.

Every so often the captives escaped but he set so many traps in so many locations that by that appropriate time of the month there was always something to offer. Something to leave at the front of his mother's bedchamber.

Yet Lord Sesshoumaru did not stay within the castle those nights of the wolves. It was too difficult to deal with the monstrosity of his mother's habit. It was not a distaste, per say, against what was done only how it was done. Perhaps, too, why it was done.

Again and again he agonized about his mother and what she got out of it....

Who was he to judge?

Those nights his mother ruled the castle he fled into the arms of the only creature able to sooth his torment. He was not Lord Sesshoumaru with her. Indeed, he always forgot who he was - and what he was - when curled by her. Her loving gentle ways. He scratches behind the ears, along the belly. How she clutched his chest at night as if her were a toy of comfort.

There was no father to be ashamed of. No mother to dread. No offspring to curse. Just a girl, as lonely as he was lonely, who adorned his neck with flowers.

By the gods - how he needed to get away from that woman! That woman and her icy, cold voice. He loved his mother but he could not stand to be near her, haunted by those thoughts of her and what she did atop the bed they shared. He wanted another soul who would not judge him against the sins of his father and would be capable of any sort of love.

Perhaps it was a touch of rebellion that drove him into the blankets of a human.

Lord Sesshoumaru feared his mother - and at the end he probably hated her too - but he forced himself to accept that he could not judge her. His mother and father were both guilty of their own, destructive tendencies. How long before his own spiral into oblivion?

But all familial duty was severed that morning when his mother committed the ultimate act of betrayal. He could not forgive her as she could not forgive his father. And after that moment forever he escaped into the world fleeing that tragedy he witnessed....

The worst part of it was that he blamed himself - a moment of weakness allowed affection to be consummated - what eternity of pain was unleashed that night of pleasure!

Was his mother so enraged discovering the seeds of human and demon mixed again?

Such as it was he awoke and the girl was gone - all that remained were the petals of the flowers she knit into a lei while he cuddled exhausted.

Maybe she left to take a walk? Maybe he overslept? There could have been a thousand reasons to explain why she was not there that morning - but he knew as if by instinct that there was only one reality.

"Mother!" he shouted bursting out of his fury demonic form.

When he reached the doorway of the bedchamber he did not pause to knock.

"Mother?" he could not believe it - gods she timed it perfectly....

There, sprawled atop the mattress, naked, body flexing with orgasm, it was his mother!

"No, no, mother! No! What have you done?"

A smile curled her lips. Moans of pleasure groaning through gritted teeth. She spread then raised her legs. All the while her labia breached as if to birth....

But it was not a baby and it was not a life that emerged into the world - it was the girl, smeared with the blood of womanhood, as blue as death, ejaculated out of his mother's vagina!

**(1895)**


	45. Strong Enough For AMan Built For AWoman

**"Strong Enough for a Man, Built for a Woman" by Abraxas (2009-03-30)**

Mrs. Higurashi was amazed by its stamina. Given its age and everything, she did not expect it to withstand her robust and abusive use yet it lasted and lasted. It could not endure forever, though, and she vowed to enjoy probing its limit.

Cupping the instrument between her hands, as if it were a delicate piece of art, she could not help but gawk impressed by its features. Its blend of textures: silky to rubbery. Its wild, raw reactions to stimulus. Its rock hard girth. It was not large - its base at her fingers, its tip just beyond her wrists - yet that game, it was not about size, it was about skill....

She squeezed it and smiled as it replied with a vigorous, spasmatic flex - by the gods, she thought, it was worth every last yen!

The tool's perfection transcended those visceral physical extents of its beauty. She was also excited with its lack of consequence. It was simply a penis - and that was that - the best part of the act of sex without the unnecessary distractions and connections. Still, she was not prepared to deal with its cute, boyish dimensions, not since she was a little girl poking through the business of her brothers was she so awed just by the shape and function of the male....

Mrs. Higurashi grasped it and directed it up the edge of her skirt. She lowered the waist of her underwear and inserted it between her wet, swollen lips. As if feeding the mouth of her sex, she urged it into her body until there was not another inch left to consume. Propped against a wall, she leaned back and, grasping it by the base, she stroked that tool into and out of her body. She stroked slowly while building a rhythm. She bit her lip, rolled her eyes, thrashed and shivered while it slapped with her wetness against it.

Time slipped away as she floated with those crests of orgasm....

The tool was still rigid. Amazingly. Maybe it was the way she grasped it that prolonged its life. Maybe it was another altogether different technique she needed to see demonstrated. Why, yes, she smiled, what embarrassment awaited tomorrow's session of female dominated sex.

And then, despite her grasp or because of it, she felt it stiffen and flex. Spasming. Exploding. A gush of warmth filled her body. She knew the ride was finished.

What a ride it was!

Sweating. Breathless. She dropped onto her knees, fully-clothed, clutching the boy, as naked as if birthed then and there.

Mrs. Higurashi watched Hojo's penis deflate into its natural, flaccid state. About the size of a pinkie, it sunk between the two, round gonads that hung below it. She rolled back its foreskin and noticed its tip still leaked. She kissed its eye like slit and watched as it stirred....

Withdrawing, the boy frustrated and the woman satisfied, seeing that disparity of outcome stoked a passion to humiliate she realized at last she excelled at.

"Come back tomorrow," she said, giving Hojo the reward. "Get dressed - and go - you take care of that at home."

**(500)**


	46. Sango I F You Inside Out!

**"Sango - I Fuck You Inside Out!" by Abraxas (2009-04-06)**

Miroku stirred - a train passed and its lights flashed inside of that apartment.

He turned away. Covering his face with the pillows, then, the blankets. It was too late. Not that he had been asleep anyway. Lately - everything about life was different, changed....

It was 3 am. It was always 3 am. A universe of 3 am! He could not recall any other time. Not the daylight spent within the temple. Not the throngs of tourists gawking at relics. Nor festivals. Nor ceremonies. All of it was a blur, like a kind of waking, lifeless meditation. A repetition of habit so engrained it was not important enough to remember.

Ah, except - Sango!

That woman, that young, spicy nun, resisting his advancing.

Miroku arose to wash his face at a basin. Razors. Scrapers. Rusted by use seemed to be encrusted against the porcelain. Armies of insects crawled about that litter. Their tiny, little bodies glimmering like dew.

He gazed into a mirror that hovered almost unnaturally above the fixture. Only the skyline of Tokyo illuminated the apartment. It was enough to reveal everything yet the details of his face remained formless. It was as if a shadowy dark fog rested atop his shoulders.

Where was his identity?

He worked so hard to finish Sango. The pursuit. The games. Typical of the women took his breath away - at the end they always relented. But Sango was different - she took his heart away too - and it was such a challenge to deal with it that his duties suffered. The monks noticed it. They knew he lusted Sango and worried about his change of habits. They worried and wondered.

He feared the scrutiny. He could not say where he was and what he was doing those weeks. He could not confess to excesses so beyond the humility of a monk. The truth was he was lost to the bliss of a honeymoon....

Yes, she belong to Miroku _forever!_

"Sango?" he asked longingly. "Why won't you keep me warm tonight?"

Out of a closet stuffed with garments he removed something long and heavy. It covered his legs and arms - his chest - he fit into it like a man with a spacesuit. And again he gazed into that mirror through the hood's two slit-like eyes.

The pass of a train - its lights revealed how thoroughly the garment _became_ a body. _His body_ defining _his identity_. Since it had been obliterated - if, indeed, it existed - it was replaced by _Sango!_

As a penis emerged out of a vagina, a zipper was raised waist to neck, connecting the tanned, leathered halves of a chest.

"Sango!" he said, his lips moving beneath her lips, "you know what to do!"

**(450)**


	47. D

**":D" by Abraxas (2009-04-13)**

She didn't waste words. She sat, legs spreading, fingers groping, arching cat-like she grasped her breasts. She unwrapped her kimono to expose flesh - the garment tumbled onto a pile at the floor.

Voiceless, lips biting stifling a cry, she brought her slit into view. She parted her lips to display her clit. At last, exposed, growing redder and redder, the wall of silence crumbled with a gasp. Pants of groaning and moaning followed along with head to toe shivers.

She thrust to focus attention onto her clit - the little knob of flesh swelled rigidly!

Crying. Blushing. Face twisted into a grimace. She grinded against the mattress. She jolted, legs and arms flailing, body bobbing up and down. Her head thrashed. Her toes curled. She grunted as if to resist it that inevitable until the very last breath - then a spasm! A cascade of thrusting and bucking. Without a stroke, only a display, her clit snug between her lips throbbed and exploded with a burst of juice.

White splattered her chest - she swirled it against her nipple.

"Hojo," she said, exhausted, "keep it out and get that towel."

"Yes, Mrs. Higurashi!" said the boy as flushed as the head of his cock.

**(200)**


	48. The Shaman and the Fox

**"The Shaman and The Fox" by Abraxas (2009-04-20)**

Once upon a time there lived a very lecherous shaman named Miroku. This adventurous man was not associated with any particular tribe; rather, he roamed about the plains from settlement to settlement, wherever there seemed to be a waiting abundance of women. He battled with spirits that haunted the teepees of girls and threatened their virginity and exchanged his medicine - which was considerable - for kisses and hugs.

That spring Miroku's travelling brought him west into the land of the Rocky Mountains. The territory was unfamiliar and he found it difficult to hunt. The birds and animals were scarce. Buffalo did not appear to graze about its vast endless plains. His days were very lonely journeys. His nights were filled with a kind of dread if doom were ready to strike. Deep within that country the shaman realized the land was tormented by a great dark spirit but his magic could not fathom what exactly it could be.

He pressed onward, however, driven by a vision that the love of his life would be found at the base of the Rocky Mountains.

A dark, cold night he caught a fox sniffing about the meat he caught recently. The creature, looking lean and hungry, was dragging the food away into the grassland. Without a word he sprung out of the cover of blankets and pinned the fox. As it yelped and nipped frantically, still aiming toward the pilfering of the meat, he unsheathed the jaw of a buffalo.

"Spare me, I beg you," spoke the fox, "I see that you are a shaman of strong medicine."

Still wielding the weapon, Miroku relaxed his grip and watched as the tiny, red fox squirmed, transforming into a boy-like cherub.

"So," he started unfazed by what he saw, "what brings a demon this close to the world of man?"

"We are starved, shaman, a terrible evil spirit cursed this land and drains it of life."

Miroku cut two pieces of meat and gave it to the fox.

The fox, whose name was Shippo, spoke again about the spirit. It was long, long ago that a tribe lived at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Those people produced the bravest warriors and women that inspired the lust of all human tribes. Many, humans and demons alike, offered riches to be wedded to those women.

The chief's daughter, Sango, was especially envied. But the old man did not want to part ways with his favorite treasure so easily. The tribe's shaman agreed: only the cleverest slayer of demons would be her husband. This prophesy angered Naraku, a great evil demon, who tried to seduce the woman.

Naraku cursed the tribe - Sango fell into sleep and the rest of the people were turned into rock.

Hearing that story the shaman vowed to fight Naraku and break his curse!

Shippo agreed to help Miroku find the village. It took the two a great many moons but, at last, in the middle of summer they found a dense patch of forest. Ripping off the vegetation they uncovered piles of rock shaped like people. Working that whole, entire day they cleared the area that had been occupied by the tribe.

Only a tall, wide mass of bush remained uncleared.

"Sango's teepee must be under these bushes," the shaman said. "Wait - do you hear it?"

The fox listened into the mound of shrub. Its branches rattled. Its shape beat as if it were a heart. And suddenly there came out of it a very angry sound.

It was a nest of wasps!

"Ku! Ku! Ku!" a voice deep within the forest laughed. Bright, red gazed at the interlopers. "Who challenges the power of Naraku?"

Suddenly the nest exploded. Miroku and Shippo fled as the swarm followed. They escaped into a teepee that had been transformed into stone. They blocked the entrance with the hide of a buffalo.

Surrounded by the wasps, within the abyss of that cavern, an idea occurred to the shaman. While the fox continued to barricade the entrance he drew a circle and placed tokens along its edge. He started a fire and danced while wearing the pelt of a wolf. At the end his chant was answered by a bolt of lightning - the blast entered through the tip of the teepee and shattered it.

"Grab my leg and don't let go," Miroku shouted and Shippo complied.

Now open and exposed, the two were surrounded by the swarm, it circled getting closer and closer.

Then the shaman extended a hand into the air and a whirlwind emerged through his fingers. The swarm was drawn into that vertex. They fought, stinging and biting the flesh of his palm, yet they could not escape.

Exhausted, he shoved his hand into the fire and, with a puff of smoke, he reversed the spell.

"No!" Naraku wailed. "What have you done with my power! I'm melting - MELTING! Ah - you haven't seen the last of me! You haven't seen the last of me!"

The great evil demon, wrapped with the hide of a man, staggered into the scene. It fell onto its knees. The hide collapsed and was blown away by the wind.

"Naraku disintegrated?" asked Shippo. He looked where the figure stood when it died. A spider was crawling about the grass. He crushed it without a thought.

The shaman, his hand swollen by the stings, crawled toward Sango's teepee. The wasp's nest, like Naraku, crumbled. With the fox's help he cleared away the bush and uncovered the entrance. Within they heard Sango's snoring. She did not turn into stone, like the rest of the people, and she looked as gorgeous as the day she was cursed.

Overwhelmed by desire he kissed her warm, wet lips -

Shippo saw Sango's eyes blink. "It's working!" he exclaimed. "Keep going! Keep going, Miroku!"

Suddenly the woman slapped the shaman away.

Shippo, shocked by the sound of the crack, averted his eyes.

"Pervert!" she yelled.

"Er, maybe not," he smiled slyly. "Sango!" He jumped into her arms, nestling against her like a pet.

Miroku sat up and rubbed the side of his face - the imprint of Sango's hand was red as if branded onto his cheek - it was love at first sight!

That sunset the tribe was returned to life and the wilderness was restored. Miroku and Shippo were hailed as heroes and a festival was started. The chief was impressed by the shaman and everyone agreed the prophesy had been fulfilled. Right then and there the man was offered Sango's hand - alas, while nobody was looking, the woman and the fox fled into the forest.

**(1100)**


	49. Why Dont You Ask

**"Why Don't You Ask Me?" by Abraxas (2009-04-23)**

Don't you want to know?

I catch you staring. Looking. Averting - as if to pretend you are uninterested.

Don't you want to ask?

Ah, nervous - silly little girl as if you needed to be nervous - let me help you: 'Oh, Miroku, I'm so so so curious about what's making you happy in your robes! What's going on between your legs? Let me see!'

And what am I supposed to do - deny a female's curiosity? Impossible. Especially not when I'm looked at with the innocence of a virgin. The body was meant to be seen and enjoyed - with the hand and if not the eye.

Girl, don't you understand, I want to be a gift that you unwrap. My toy, lengthening and hardening with anticipation, aches to be played with by you. Tear away my clothes and expose every last detail of Miroku! Don't be ashamed of it - that lust oozing out of your gaze - let your eyes soak everything that I yearn to offer. Let your nose sniff my scent! Let your lips taste my flavor! The whole, entire experience of being with the fullness of my sex, I wish it tattooed onto your mind, your body, so much so that I cease to be a man and transform into a piece of flesh for your pleasure.

Ask me, please, I want you to know everything!

I want you to see how I spurt into my full, erect length. The way my shaft throbs and shakes as my tip emerges like a flower growing full bloom. I want you to see it and feel it, pulse by pulse, how I start tiny and soft and end rigid and large. And my foreskin stretches my tip. And my tip pokes out in view. And you kiss that tear of wetness dewing out of it slit.

I want to sense your excitement as you weigh and fondle my sack and tickle its tightening, scrunching ridges.

I fantasize about you uncovering these personal and embarrassing realities of my body. My lust is spurred by the thought of you giggling at the knowledge of what your eyes just looking affects my sex. By the gods, I blush at you and your curiosity, I will be consumed by arousal if you so much as peek into my robes. And if it comes to pass, that you learn these reflexive involuntary responses I am a slave of, I will be cursed with a raging permanent bulge between my legs whenever we meet again.

You knowing the Miroku naked undercover induces climax.

Oh, girl, why do you torment me? Just reach into my robes! Just pet my bulge! Make me shudder with pleasure with your slightest gentlest rub. I want to share with you what the world doesn't see - and don't you want to know it? Don't you want to see how I stroke my length, rubbing my foreskin up and down my tip? How my body tenses and relaxes as pleasure builds along my length? Don't you want to hear my grunting as my sex loads up it seed? As I beg to be touched by you? Don't you want to feel my climax shoot through your fingers? My body heaving with each and every squirt?

Just do it - do it - ask me, girl, ask me!

**(550)**


	50. OMGWTFLOL

**"OMGWTFLOL" by Abraxas (2009-06-24)**

Lord Sesshoumaru thought it was odd that Jaken chose to do the laundry at night.

Rin also thought it was odd - especially as her clothes seemed to feel worn and dirty after their wash - yet she was not disturbed. The little green youkai was _always_ bizarre. She remembered all of the games they used to play together. Those things he said. Those things he did.

That night, as the fire thinned and died, Rin sneaked out of the campsite.

Jaken was working, again, at the banks of the river. The sound of wetness slapping, rhythmically, called her closer and closer like a fly to a web. It was only the reptilian, though, busy with laundry - beating clothing across rocks. She blinked, the light of the moon filtering through the trees was weak yet strong enough to reveal a few details. Mostly shape and color. White, uncurled undergarments. Green, impish creature toiling almost naked.

Rin sighed - the sights of his arms (such thin flailing limbs) and of his body (tensing) brought back a fond, if queer, memory....

_Jaken was not yet naked although by the looks of it his fundoshi was about to come apart. Rin was clothed, still, despite the youkai's frantic, erratic tugging. He was so full of excitement that she was knocked by accident. She giggled watching him squirm atop of her and then she mimicked the spasms._

Jaken was too busy with his chore to notice Rin's slow and quiet advance. The girl got so close she saw exactly what the demon was doing between the rocks. Already she knew something was amiss - Rin knew how to do laundry what Jaken was doing something very different.

He grasped a fundoshi and brought it to his face. He sniffed it - no - he inhaled it. He breathed through it as if gasping for life. He rubbed it everywhere throughout his face. Then he brought it under the moonlight and examined various fecal smudges then he licked the stains.

The frenzy of his hands grasping the cloth - the fever with which he almost devoured it - reminded Rin of the way they used to play.

Almost instinctively she brought her hand through her undergarment.

_It happened after a fight between Lord Sesshoumaru and the hanyou Inuyasha. The great dog demon wandered off into the wilderness. Jaken, meanwhile, did not seem to be the same, exactly...._

_She fidgeted with his kimono and he did not resist as it collapsed onto the ground._

_"My little speckled violet," she cooed. Wilted, it would not come to life. Rough. Cold. Scaly. It appeared to be dead. She cried realizing it would not respond to her affection. "What's wrong, Jaken?"_

_The demon did not answer, rather, it stood to refasten its underwear._

_The girl blinked at the scar along Jaken's waist. It had not been there. And Rin wondered if it was anything to do with his death._

Suddenly the soft, warm feel of her hand was replaced by jagged, cool fingers. She opened her eyes to see Jaken poking and prodding. He pressed his face against her body between her legs and sniffed. Then, probing further, he rubbed her fundoshi against her body like a washcloth to soak her juices. And when sated he ripped it away and wrapped it about his face.

Rin hugged Jaken tightly, squeezing and groping, she mimicked his jittering.

_"What's wrong Jaken?" she asked._

_"Oh, make me harder, harder, Rin, please!" he begged._

_"I don't know how...."_

_"Shake, please - shake!"_

_The reptilian tensed and gazed with a strange almost pained face. His hug tightened and then - all of a sudden - he spasmed. And then she felt something very, very hard between her legs...._

_"Did I do it, Jaken? You're acting so funny, Jaken," she laughed watching his reaction._

_That hard whateveritwas got wet and wet and wet...._

Jaken worked into a frenzy that demanded a release. It used to be impossible. Until he started to work with the undergarments. He found it by accident - when he inhaled Rin's first menstruation - he gagged. Yet, with that mix of stimulus and reflex, he created a new kind of climax.

Now that she was there in flesh _and blood_ the urge could not be stopped!

"Oh, you dirty, dirty, little girl!" he gasped through the fundoshi. "I'll make you dirty, Rin!"

"Make me dirty!"

Jaken threw off the undergarment. His mouth opened, wide, and with a shake from head to toe he hurled against Rin's face.

A dirty, nasty but intimate act - a kind of affection only Rin was capable of extracting!

**(760)**


	51. Cuddle With My Plushie

**"Cuddle With My Plushie" by Abraxas (2009-09-13)**

Rin awoke to a howl. Yearning. Longing. Like an eye the moon gazed through the window. She sighed, recalling the nights of another lifetime past.

Kohaku stirred - wife turned to face husband - uncovered and exposed, the boy's kimono tented while the girl watched.

_"Rin," Lord Sesshoumaru whispered, "cuddle with my plushie."_

_Rin smiled - while Jaken gasped - she dug into the demon's kimono. A tight, tight hug. And his plushie throbbed against her chest._

It soothed to be by it those nights she could not sleep.

Holding Kohaku - measuring him, judging him, comparing him - shedding a tear she missed Lord Sesshoumaru.

**(100)**


	52. Youjo

**"Youjo" by Abraxas (2009-10-03)**

How it started they could not say. It just happened. She was there. He was there. Bound, as it were, by a common love of Sesshoumaru. As unlikely as it was, given their history, they found solace within each other's company.

Yet there remained a vacuum that resisted fulfilment. They tried to hide those repressed intimate urges but could not withstand the impulses. And, to be sure, the method of that expression was without notice through subtle little touches here and there.

Jaken, stirred by scents of flowers, pushed the woman against the wall. He tore her obi. He spread her kimono. His feet dug into the fabric where it collected between her legs while he reached and fastened restraints.

"...tsukitsumeru....shokushu..."

Kagura was sweating - squirming and gasping. Her face glowed with desire while reptilian fingers danced about her sex. Her body burst with ecstacy as lizard skin brushed against her flesh. She shuddered, yanking the chains, wetting her thighs, displaying the fruits of orgasm.

The imp licked the woman's swollen lips. Wet. Smooth. But there used to be another. And there that virginity was not illusion....

Jaken, spurred by passion, uttered "youjo" while devouring the essence of the girl.

**(200)**


	53. Sit On My Lap Sweetie

**"Sit On My Lap Sweetie" by Abraxas (2009-11-14)**

The unobservant were oblivious. Even the suspicious were reluctant. A relationship? - impossible....

The two used that incredibility as advantage to express their tenderness - their affection - without fear in front of the group.

Sango came across a session. The slayer was confused by the intensity of their silence - and their gaze. The woman was hypnotized with storms of passions exchanged through their eyes.

Kirara jumped and curled onto Miroku's lap.

"Want to bear my child?" the man asked while petting the cat.

"Argh," Sango exclaimed, "you...argh...."

She staggered off - as the pair followed that retreat their eyes revealed their guilt....

**(100)**


	54. To Be Thankful

**"To Be Thankful" by Abraxas (2009-11-14)**

The face that anticipated his offering. The eyes that spoke of wanting it, needing it. The hands - fragile in spite of heritage - that yanked his flesh. The fingers, girlish and baby-like, that explored his anatomy.

"I'm gonna blow, gods, I'm gonna blow!"

The depraved, brutish urges she pleased with skill. The quick and dirty releases she allowed without protest. The facets of a dependency she indulged silently.

And for those lips....

"Oh, girl, don't stop, don't stop...."

Kohaku trembled then exploded through Kanna's grip, blasting the girl with a shot of white.

Gods - for those things he was thankful!

**(100)**


	55. This Is Why Masturbation Was Invented

**"This Is Why Masturbation Was Invented" by Abraxas (2009-12-03)**

The cave was a secret nobody alive knew about. Indeed, it had been discovered by accident, a cold, autumn night, a moon-full night. Its entrance was a jagged, flattened circle masked by long folds of rocks and bristled with shrubs. Its interior sank deep into the earth where its chambers unwound amidst a void, thick like a fog, that enshrouded its details with mystery. Its sanctuary - though cold by death - provided Inuyasha a perfect retreat in which to pass those periods of vulnerability.

Inside his heart echoed about the walls of the cave. Something was missing. It seemed - he could not say why only instinctively feel - something was missing. Even the company he kept was not enough to fill the void....

Inuyasha was not alone.

He crawled through a tunnel while holding a torch. At the end of the passage was the chamber used by the woman. And, at the back of the catacomb, she lay and greeted the boy with the gaze of her eyes.

A mixture of emotions coursed through the hanyou's body.

He set the torch against the wall and crept toward the figure. Her arm clasped his shoulder tightly. Her breasts, exposed by his shaky, boyish fingers, invited intimately. He indulged his companion's need.

He shivered as the cold was freed to tease his skin - naked from head to toe.

Inuyasha kissed the woman's cheek and whispered appreciation. He was full of excitement: a swell of anticipation, growing stronger and stronger, until overpowered by the urge. It was spurred by the figure - the woman - who was allowing it again that night. And, he fantasized, that night would be that night when everything changed.

Already he felt the change had been imminent. The moment had been threatening to come and come, like an avalanche, until his anatomy and its immaturity thwarted it. She was not judgmental yet he felt he failed to please....

His tip was kissed - his shaft was engulfed - by the lips between her legs. The boy went atop the woman. Below, they were connected sex to sex. Above, his face pressed her breasts. He started the motion impelled by the sensation itching at the head of his penis. He thrust his erection against her passage - it was rough - and he stopped.

"This time. I know it. This time," he promised and, revived by the gaze of her eyes, he attempted it again. "Yes! It feels...different...oh, my, god!" His stroke stopped and his body stiffened then collapsed with a flurry of spasm. He felt surging, spurting out of his tip. "It happened...."

Inuyasha rolled off the figure. Naked, beside the woman, the boy felt a grip seemed to tighten against his genitals. As if weighing them. As if, teasingly, proud of them. He looked - the effect was illusion - although the white leaking and glistening under the torchlight was real.

"I'm a man," he announced with a gasp then kissed the woman then curled against her breasts. "Mommy - aren't you proud of me?"

**(500)**


	56. Weird Story In A Minor

**"Weird Story In A Minor" by Abraxas (2010-01-02)**

Run! Hide! Go! Fuck - want you kill you. Go - where? - smell is all! Little. Dirty. Boy. Moon full. Hide! Demon rise. Hide! You kill? No.... _Kill you!_ Go! Gods.... I hate you! Show it. Naked. Dirty. Boy. Hard. I hate you! Hard. I hate you! Hard. Stroke. Cry, _Kagome_, she will not you. Flesh shred. Claw drip. Blood. Bleed! You cock too weak to stop - black hair! black hair! - too weak to stop. Hand wet break you cock. Sniff. Lick. Finger. Ha! Ha! Ha! Black. White. Fool - _you dream!_ Time will be. I always. Inuyasha ignore ignore ignore - I always!

**END**


	57. To Tame The Beast

**"To Tame The Beast" by Abraxas (2010-04-09)**

I know she's out there waiting to be found. Yes. I know she's out there. If not... I will go mad - I swear. It's impossible to live this way! How do I continue with these urges - throbbing, aching - that worsen day by day? It's inhuman to endure this appetite!

Don't you get it? I NEED TO FUCK...god damn you!

I boil at the disappointment of another night without a FUCK and that rage, spurred by unfulfillment, drives my hunt.

But I know she's out there and...if I find her...she will be the one who tames the beast.

Don't tell me about Eri! That tender, honey-faced girl. Don't you talk about Eri! She was not the one. Or Yuka. Or Ayumi.

Oh, Eri, why did you fail? The police found you dead. Another victim of Detective Kenshin's 'Ripper'. They said your face was an eruption of shredded bloody skin but I could not stand to see that photograph. Oh, Eri, I am so so so sorry you were not the one. I wanted that to be you. I was praying that was going to be you.

I wish I could have saved you but I am a slave to it and quake at the thought that if I don't satisfy the demon I will be next.

Eri! You were the first to kneel in front of it and the first to smother it...with your lips. I will not forget that. That hope your kiss inspired. That scream your lungs burst. When the monster emerged. That - OH MY GOD...

I don't know how many years ago the affliction started. It started somewhere, somehow. I guess. I was a normal sort of kid with only a passing interest with girls. My attitudes about sex and the body were lukewarm if ever thought about. Twice - yes, twice - I was naked in front of my sisters and other female eyes but nobody felt awkward about it.

Even at the onset of puberty, when my hand often slept sticky and soaked within my shorts, I was not overpowered by the urges. Anymore than a teenager of my equal would have been. Of course, looking at it, I wonder if all of that time I spent exploring the sensations of my own body awoke the demon. Invited its possession of my cock. And, afflicted, made me crave the FUCK more and more. More than I thought possible.

Don't you get it already? Look - if people can be taken over completely by demons. I mean - is it not possible that a part of the body by itself can be possessed too? What other explanation exists?

It's why I chase after my savior - that girl able to be speared by the beast and with my cum shooting into her body freeing me of this curse.

Gods...it's...consuming like fire. There came a point where I fantasized about the girls at school every waking moment. I'd rush away...I'd jack off to the thought of the girls looking at me, undressing me, stroking me as I grow with their play. Until the demon emerged wanting more and more beyond what a human was able to yield. And I wanted it. I was wrong and I know it was wrong. But I wanted it.

Wanting it! - it drove me over the edge. I worked the courage to show my cock to Yuka. I remember it was gym and I dragged her behind bleachers. I was nervous and excited and unsure of what to do. So I just pulled it out. I could not stiffen. OH MY GOD! I finally got a girl alone with my cock - the very object of that monster's desire - and it refused to work. Yuka - you laughed like it was a joke but your yanking didn't coax a single twitch out of it.

That humiliation repeated as Yuka spread the word about my problem. Kagome must have been told about it too - although there was not a chance to show it off to Higurashi - she started to skip that year. Anyway, all of them wanted to see it and, of course, we snuck about the school to do it. Always in semi-private, almost-public areas. And every time the monster seemed to frustrate me to satisfy its own depravity.

What was I doing wrong?

Everything changed the night of the storm. Yuka and I walked about the streets of Tokyo. All of a sudden the rain surged and the umbrella was not able to take it. We ran and found ourselves lost in a lonely stretch of city. There we crammed through the first doorway we saw. It was the lobby of an old, abandoned building. We thought the place was more than a little creepy - it was surrounded by a fog that didn't seem to be a part of the storm - and you don't often see such stuff.

Yes, it was spooky but we felt safe and we retreated into that shelter the building afforded as the storm continued to rage.

Alone - with Yuka.

We huddled to share heat and then and there came that urge to FUCK. Without a word I yanked it free. She didn't say or do anything to stop what happened. Instead she watched as I unzipped and reached into my fly. Her eyes widened. Her mouth gaped. I was hard at last and it was like I could not stop getting larger and harder.

It must have been the demon showing its form. It got so big it felt like a log attached to my crotch. Heavy. Dreadful. I was getting drowsy. The monster probably thought Yuka was the girl - the one - and wanted to taste release.

And then she screamed. I didn't know why until I looked at what became of my cock between my legs. It was the true shape of my curse in all of its glory.

Already weak I fainted - you need to believe that!

The beast - I cannot forget what it looked like although I am pressed to describe it. In truth it defies the power of language. Mostly because it's not just what I saw that shocked me. There was something indistinct about it. There was something more suggestive than overt. It gave the impression of evil.

It was truly another entity with its own god damned intentions...

I don't know what happened next. Only that as I was coming out of sleep I was startled by footsteps that sounded as if they were running deep into the building's yawning abyss beyond what could be seen of the lobby. I could not find Yuka that realization - a mixture of panic and confusion - elicited the accompaniment of a low, dull laughter. It was venomous that hideous banter and I wished - god, I wished - it was coming out of the shadows and darkness enveloping the lobby. Instead it was coming out of a spot all together different.

I zipped my pants and that quelled the disturbance.

As I staggered about I noticed the lobby changed - its furnishings and whatnot scattered as if upturned by a typhoon.

What happened between my vision of the beast and my alarm I cannot say. The world was a blur. All I know what was that I could not find Yuka and every better instinct, freed now that the demon slept, yelled at me to run out of the building. I obeyed - and rushed into the street.

We didn't see Yuka after that. In the meantime I tried to comfort Eri and Ayumi. By then Kagome was just too sick and those sweet little girls were alone to grieve. They came by my house a few occasions. Eventually we settled into a routine.

We'd sit atop a rug in the basement of the school. After class the building was as quiet as a temple. I'd stay in between the girls who leaned their heads onto my shoulders. Then, it could not be helped, the twitching in my crotch.

My heart skipped a beat - the beast, it was calling me, making me want to unveil it.

"It's OK, Hojo," Ayumi said, kissing my cheek, "you're just a boy excited to be with a bunch of girls."

"You don't need to hide anything," Eri added, taking the stack of books off of my lap and revealing my tent.

I gulped, the girls enthused to be thinking about anything other than Yuka, teased me about the length and hardness of my bulge.

Maybe what I saw between my legs that night of the storm was only imagination. It was a spooky building and I was sleepy. My eyes, if not my brain, must have been playing a trick. Although that could not explain Yuka's scream but nobody knew about Yuka's scream.

As the girls lowered the waist of my shorts and I sprung into view I already convinced myself that my cock was not possessed.

Ayumi went mad but Detective Kenshin doesn't agree the girl killed Eri. But what nobody denies is that Ayumi suffered a total and complete psychosis. The poor, poor girl - she's locked away in the ward and I see her every now and then. They say she's raves about the animal and every now and then is coherent enough to describe what happened to Eri's face.

It was the beast again.

I sat at Yuka's funeral. Yuka. Eri. Ayumi. All of those girls looked at my cock. All of them tried to tame the beast. But they fail. It overwhelms them with its insatiable, inhuman lust. A passion no human yet is able to quench. It goes mad as I too go mad. My mind doesn't know the depths of depravity its hunger reaches.

Eri, your mouth was not enough, you were not the one. Ayumi, your play only riled the beast, you escaped death through insanity and I envy you. And Yuka...

That leaves Kagome. She cohabits with a strange, silver-haired boy. They say he is the boyfriend. That makes it difficult but I know, I know, I know just the kiss of Kagome's cunt will sooth my cock. So begins my chase. I will not be stood up again, Kagome, you will not get away!

Kagome, you don't need to fear. I KNOW IT! Detective Kenshin - I know it! It will be different with Kagome. IT WILL BE DIFFERENT WITH KAGOME! She knows how to slay demons - the Higurashi admit it. SHE WILL FREE ME! With her cunt wrapped around my cock as we FUCK. I will be free as I shoot my cum inside her body. DETECTIVE KENSHIN YOU MUST LET ME SEE KAGOME! PLEASE! PLEASE! OH GOD KAGOME! LOOK HOW HARD YOU MAKE ME! LOOK! LOOK! IT'S THE BEAST COMING OUT TO PLAY!

**END**


	58. Head

**"Head" by Abraxas (2010-04-11)**

Jaken dropped a log into the fire - sparks burst free as the wood crackled.

Rin watched the flame as if its slithering, flickering tongues revealed a secret about the universe.

The great dog demon stood - his kimono tumbled along with his armor onto the ground about his feet.

The girl smiled at the sight of the monster exposed. Firelight danced across his chest, his waist, his thighs - it accentuated cuts between muscles and smooth, flawless skin. Yet it was what remained enshadowed that caused a tingle between her legs. Her eyes loved to gawk at Lord Sesshoumaru's cock especially when it was cloaked only by night.

Just the suggestion of its shape was too much to withstand.

"Is it time to play?"

Jaken gulped - was it roleplay at that stage?

The demon approached the girl - his tiny soft dick bouncing against his sack, eliciting a playful if naive giggle. He sat against the tree. She knelt between legs spreading and genitals dangling.

"Head."

Jaken gave Rin the bag. She rummaged through its contents. It had to be there, she thought, buried under that litany of supplies they carried along their journey. Yes, it was there, fighting and biting. She yanked it free by its hair - it swung about by the effort of its attempt to free itself.

Jaken retreated, his face behind his staff, as Rin carried the head. That a girl would be unphased by that was a nightmare come true. And he feared soon he might be joining that head....

"Press."

Rin shoved the face of the head against her master's genitals. Vibrations echoed out of the head, guttural and angry, as it twitched like a wasp caught between her hands. Lord Sesshoumaru gasped at the frottage then yelped - his eyes gaped wide and wet.

It was the head - Lord Sesshoumaru's sack was pinched between its teeth.

Rin pried the jaws and freed the demon. She scolded the head whose expression remained fixed. She kissed the monster's swollen red testicles.

"Rin won't let that mean old head hurt Lord Sesshoumaru." She kissed the tip of his cock which twitched at attention. "Rin's got an idea."

Jaken shrivelled at the sight. Rin was full of very wrong ideas. In the name of all the gods at once! - what he was seeing in front of his face....

Rin jammed the neck of the head onto Lord Sesshoumaru's cock - jerking it rhythmically up and down the shaft.

The moaning and groaning that followed signaled approval.

"Fast."

She complied ramming the cock into the mouth until it stopped at the teeth.

"RIN!"

He erupted - shiver rattled body and continued shot after shot until the cum was exhausted.

"I saw you, Naraku, thought you escaped? Look at you - drooling my hot dog cum. At last I found a use for you!"

**END**


	59. Sango I Am The Cock Of Your Dreams

**"Sango - I Am The Cock Of Your Dreams (parts 1 and 2)" by Abraxas (2010-04-19)**

Part 1

It was the smell that drove Sango insane. That woodsy, musky flavor was enough to stir the woman into a frenzy. Immediately, clothes were torn and skin was exposed....

She grasped the wolf by the waist - tight as if to brand his flesh with her mark - and fell onto her knees. With her face against his crotch, her mouth teasing his bulge, her fingers digging up and into his cover, she enacted the fantasy launched by a thousand lonely nights - to rub against Koga's pelt! She wanted it and as she reached the soft, hard feel of manflesh she craved that canine more and more!

There could be no other....

"Oh, god!" she moaned while her hands alternated, frantically, between rubbing the manmeat and her own hot and drooly sex. "Oh, god, Koga!"

The wolf, head aback and rolling between shoulders, grabbed the slayer by the hair and pushed her face into his crotch to smother his excitement with her eager and ravaging lips.

_"Take me!" the wolf howled. As Sango's mouth - virginal, uncertain - wrapped around his cock. As Koga's legs - thrashing, restless - embraced about her body._

Sango reached into the demon's loincloth and clutched what fruit it offered. She yanked the cock out of the cover. Only its swollen little head could be seen. As it stiffened it offered glimpses of its shaft. She licked its tip and elicited a cacophony of gasps and begs for more and more until that tease left the man weak in the knees.

"Take me!" Koga growled.

Sango undid the last of the binds. At last he stood naked and vulnerable. That smell - it would be there forever and just the memory of it spurred a fever. She grabbed his sack, that overflowed the cup of her palms, and with his cock like a leash she urged him toward the bed.

Koga tore off her kimono. Exposed, she blushed with excitement at that outburst of violence. Held by the woman, he knelt between her legs. Guided by her fingers, her filled her body. "You want this! You want this! Oh, god, you want this!" he stammered kissing her neck. Then began the thrusting....

"Sango!" Koga broke the kiss with a howl.

As they gazed, eye to eye, he erupted.

It awoke a memory. Looking at the wolf atop the visual returned as if anew. The feel of his body writhing, his cock throbbing as he unloaded twitch by twitch. Drunk with that smell everything seemed magnificent.

_She grasped his head by his face. She watched him go from a frenzy of ecstacy to a glowing if exhausted expression. She knew then and there that nothing could be like that night with the wolf when virginity fled. Even if they ravaged each other a thousand lifetimes it was that night everything would be compared to...._

Sango against Koga - naked.

Slayer played with the little wolf. Comparing. Judging. She could not believe it - how Koga kept that manhood tamed under his loincloth simply defied nature.

Part 2

It was the smell that drove Sango insane. That woodsy, musky flavor was enough to stir the woman into a frenzy. Immediately, clothes were torn and skin was exposed....

She grasped the monk by the waist - tight as if to brand his flesh with her mark - and fell onto her knees. With her face against his crotch, her mouth teasing his bulge, her fingers digging up and into his cover, she enacted the fantasy launched by a thousand lonely nights - to rub against Koga's pelt! She wanted it and as she reached the soft, hard feel of manflesh she craved that canine more and more!

There could be no other....

"Oh, god!" she moaned while her hands alternated, frantically, between rubbing the manmeat and her own hot and drooly sex. "Oh, god, Miroku!"

The monk, head aback and rolling between shoulders, grabbed the slayer by the hair and pushed her face into his crotch to smother his excitement with her eager and ravaging lips.

_"Take me!" the wolf howled. As Sango's mouth - virginal, uncertain - wrapped around his cock. As Koga's legs - thrashing, restless - embraced about her body._

Sango reached into the houshi's loincloth and clutched what fruit it offered. She yanked the cock out of the cover. Only its swollen little head could be seen. As it stiffened it offered glimpses of its shaft. She licked its tip and elicited a cacophony of gasps and begs for more and more until that tease left the man weak in the knees.

"Take me!" Miroku growled.

Sango undid the last of the binds. At last he stood naked and vulnerable. That smell - it would be there forever and just the memory of it spurred a fever. She grabbed his sack, that fit the cup of her palms, and with his cock like a leash she urged him toward the bed.

Miroku tore off her kimono. Exposed, she blushed with excitement at that outburst of violence. Held by the woman, he knelt between her legs. Guided by her fingers, her filled her body. "You want this! You want this! Oh, god, you want this!" he stammered kissing her neck. Then began the thrusting....

"Sango!" Miroku broke the kiss with a howl.

As they gazed, eye to eye, he erupted.

It awoke a memory. Looking at the monk atop the visual returned as if anew. The feel of his body writhing, his cock throbbing as he unloaded twitch by twitch. Drunk with that smell everything seemed magnificent.

_She grasped his head by his face. She watched him go from a frenzy of ecstacy to a glowing if exhausted expression. She knew then and there that nothing could be like that night with the wolf when virginity fled. Even if they ravaged each other a thousand lifetimes it was that night everything would be compared to...._

Sango against Miroku - naked.

Slayer played with the little monk. Comparing. Judging. She could not believe it - how Koga kept that manhood tamed under his loincloth simply defied nature.

**END**


	60. Fluff

**"Fluff" by Abraxas (2010-05-08)**

"Why do you play with that?" the great dog demon asked the girl.

"Because it makes Lord Sesshoumaru happy," replied Rin as she combed the fluff about the shoulder.

"Is that so...."

She rubbed it and it stirred as if alive.

_Ridiculous_, he thought - _it was just the wind or a dozen other effects._

As a child he wondered about the fluff. It was always there. Always. Yet his parents did not speak about it. After a while he stopped caring about it. Although every now and then, amid the solitudes of wanderings, the subject surfaced and it begged the questions - what was it?

Was it a part of the body untransformed? It did not seem possible, though, as a demon was not cursed with such a weakness. If the fluff was endowed with meaning it could not be that simple.

At night he reclined against a tree to meditate. Trying not to think of the fluff, he left it atop a mound of dirt, in front of the campfire. Failing, despite everything, as it crawled back into his thoughts.

Could it be that nobody said anything about the fluff because nobody noticed it?

The session was interrupted by a giggle.

It was Rin laughing all of a sudden - but it was a new and different kind of laugh which impelled investigation. He did not sense danger although the look across Jaken's face was that of shock. Nevertheless he approached with his hand on his hilt.

Lord Sesshoumaru reached the scene of the laughter. He watched, transfixed, as Rin played with the fluff. She straddled it - knees bending into a crouch, fists digging into the dirt. She bucked as if riding it like a horse.

"Rin," spake Jaken, "get off that mound!"

_Mound?_

Jaken did not see the fluff? Or could it be that he saw it yet did not want to see it? Rin saw it without a doubt as she playing with it. Jaken either did not or could not acknowledge it. Why? Was the fluff something to be ashamed of? A child, of course, was ignorant of shame. If he saw it and pretended he did not then there must be something wrong about the fluff. If he did not see it then what was wrong with Lord Sesshoumaru and by implication Rin?

The strangeness continued and he watched, coming closer and closer each and every time. Rin's play was voracious. There was not a moment when her hands were not entangled about it. Stroking it. Rubbing it. Riding it. Sometimes she grinded it at the middle. Sometimes she rode it up and down its length. She curled with it at night. She clung to it at day.

Lord Sesshoumaru sat by the mound as Rin straddled the fluff.

"Are you making Lord Sesshoumaru happy Rin?" he asked, stroking the girl's hair.

"Yes - I feel it - your happiness gets stronger every time we play."

"It does does it?"

"Yes - Lord Sesshoumaru - you want me to play faster? Harder?"

He nodded - then stood and knelt behind the girl. He eased himself atop while she tightened her thighs and quickened her pace with the fluff below. At length she was squirming within the hug of his body....

"We're almost home, Lord Sesshoumaru, oh, oh!"

The demon stops the girl with a kiss by the neck.

Maybe it was not meant to be understood.

Whatever it was, then and there, curling with Rin entangling about his body - his fluff - it did not matter anymore.

**END**


	61. In Bed They Won't Hear You Cum!

**"In Bed They Won't Hear You Cum!" by Abraxas (2010-06-11)**

_"Cum," the voice commands, "cum like WARRIORS cum!"_

Hojo awakes. Lips wet with the kiss of that Indian wild and free...their bodies ravaged. Fingers ache at the memory of skin rubbing skin, flesh throbbing, exploding...their juices splattered.

It wasn't just sex - epic sex - it was the kind of sex that spawns a universe!

Where was that brave? Fled into a void of dream? What could it be but dream...

Hojo reaches under the pillow. The book of Kagome. Its cover tear-stained. He gasps at the sight and yearns. A feather stands erect between covers!

It IS real!

**END**


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